


Prisoner 113-1698

by BlazingBengal



Series: Far from Home [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien rebels, Galra Empire, Human Experimentation, M/M, Matt Holt has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Matt Holt-centric, Minor Matt Holt/Shiro, Rebel Matt Holt, Slow Burn Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2019-09-17 07:33:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16970421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlazingBengal/pseuds/BlazingBengal
Summary: Matt has never seen himself as a strong person. He was just the kid who'd gotten into the Galaxy Garrison because of his intelligence; strength never had anything to do with it.But when he's taken prisoner by an intergalactic alien empire and everything he loves is taken from him, that all changes. The world he once knew is turned upside down, and he is forced to do whatever it takes to survive.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Updates on Mondays

Matt held a small cylinder in his hands. It was an ice sample collected from Pluto's moon, Kerberos, that could possibly contain microscopic proof of extraterrestrial microorganisms. 

If it did, this discovery would prove that Earth wasn't the only planet capable of sustaining life. It would be a revolutionary discovery in the name of modern science.

"Isn't this exciting, Shiro?" Matt glanced at his teammate. 

Matt, along with Shiro and his father, Commander Holt, had been sent to Pluto's moon, Kerberos, to look for signs of alien life. The ice samples they collected would be brought back to Earth so that they could be tested and analyzed.

"You guys get a little more excited about ice samples than I do." Shiro responded, smiling at Matt's enthusiasm. 

"This is history in the making. Not only have we traveled farther than any human ever has, but this ice could hold microscopic clues about the existence of life outside Earth." Commander Holt mused. 

"Think of it, Dad. We could use those clues to become the first people to meet aliens!" Matt exclaimed excitedly.

"My life's work would be complete." Commander Holt reflected. His entire life, he'd been curious about the prospect of aliens, other beings inhabiting planets far out in the universe. After being assigned Commander of the Kerberos Mission, tasked with collecting ice samples from Pluto's moon, he was one step closer to determining if his beliefs were true. Now, his son held the first of many ice samples. If there was anything in there, even signs proving that something had lived here, everything humanity knew about the universe would change forever.

All of a sudden, the ground beneath their feet began to quake violently. The force of it was so powerful, it felt as if the moon's surface would give way at any second.

Matt frantically scanned the ground around him, looking for cracks in the ice, a telltale sign of an earthquake. If it was one, they would have to get back to their ship as soon as possible. Not much was known about the conditions beneath Kerberos' surface, but falling into an underground store of ice would be dangerous, and he nor the rest of his team had been given much training for that type of situation. 

"What is that, seismic activity?" Commander Holt looked around fearfully. Matt wondered if his father was thinking the same thing as him.

There had never been any reports or signs of past seismic activity on Kerberos. Probes and robots had been sent here to scope out the surface and to capture images and audio feeds of the moon's surface, to give scientists an idea of what it looked like, what type of weather it had, and other important factors that would hint at the possibility for it to sustain life. For the most part, the surface was completely unbroken save for a few craters and natural land formations. Why would an earthquake occur now?

It wouldn't.

The others seemed to make the same conclusion as Matt, and lifted their gaze upwards. There was nowhere else that the sound could be coming from.

Matt's breath caught in his throat, and Shiro's eyes widened in horror.

Above them was a giant ship.

Its architecture was nothing like that of a vessel from Earth, and it's colossal size was enough to rule it out as an earth-bound ship. The outer surface was dark grey, similar to a giant storm cloud, and violet lights were scattered over the entirety of its surface like bio-luminescent bacteria living in the Bathypelagic Zone*. This was no ordinary ship.

"It can't be..." 

Matt heard his father speak as they all stared at the alien ship hovering above them. He had voiced Matt's thoughts exactly; it had to be an alien spaceship, but the reality that it was right here in front of them was almost impossible to comprehend.

But it was here, only a couple of miles up in the atmosphere. There was nothing to do but believe.

A purple light appeared from the underbelly of the ship, glowing brighter as the ship grew closer to them. As the it's shadow fell over the small group of scientists, Matt could hear an odd buzzing sound. It closely resembled the sounds made by a colony of bees or electricity.

Suddenly, a blast of pink-purple energy shot across the sky, coming from the ship, and crashing into the surface of Kerberos. 

There was no sound of explosion or broken ground, but the damage the fuchsia energy beam caused was obvious, sound or not. Large chunks of rock and ice broke off of Kerberos' surface, lifted into the air by the force of the destructive beam. 

This was all at took for Matt, Shiro, and Commander Holt to be forced into action. Whoever these aliens were, they obviously weren't friendly. Matt knew, thanks to pop culture, that alien abductions usually went something like this; the victim, either a human or another animal, was drawn into an alien ship by a tractor beam like a paperclip to a magnet.

Technically the energy beam was only drawing in pieces of Kerberos and space debris, but he wasn't going to take any chances.

"Run!" 

Shiro yelled, forcing the others to move away. The ship continued to pick up the damage from the blast, but its beam was directed towards them now. 

Matt continued to gaze in shock and awe at the ship above him. He was getting ready to run, but he wanted to get a good look at the ship.

"Come on!" Matt was torn from his thoughts when he felt someone grab his arm. Barely registering that it was Shiro, he began to run as fast as his legs could carry him.

But it turned out that their attempts were futile. The pull of the beam was much too strong, and they were lifted from Kerberos's surface through the thin atmosphere, onto the ship.

Once on board, Matt barely got a glimpse of what looked like purple humanoid aliens before he was knocked out cold.

  


* * *

  


"The Druids will find out what they know."

Matt awoke to a skull-splitting headache, and the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Curious, he blinked his eyes open to see who it was.

He regretted it immediately, when a wave of pain wracked his brain and amplified the throbbing, unrelenting ache in his head. It felt as if his skull was being crushed between two blocks of cement, adding more and more pressure until it eventually cracked. 

Through the foggy haze of the headache occupying three-fourths of his brain, he thought he heard a familiar voice coming from somewhere beside him. It sounded a lot like his crew mate Shiro, who'd been on the Kerberos Mission with him. 

Wait. The Kerberos Mission.

Fighting the pain, Matt tried to recall what had happened. He remembered that something had gone terribly wrong, but he couldn't pinpoint it. There'd been some seismic activity, which was odd, and they hadn't been able to gather all of their ice samples. Whatever had happened, it had occurred between those two events. 

It took him a second due to his damaged brain cells, but when he remembered what had happened, his blood turned to ice in his bloodstream. 

He remembered watching as a giant alien ship hovered above them, its colossal shadow covering half of the moon. He remembered the fuchsia energy that had emanated from an unseen opening in the ship's underside, and how it had lured them in...

That could only mean one thing. 

Tiny needles stabbed into his head as he once again tried to force open his eyes, but he forced himself to push through the pain. If he was where he thought he was, he had to know no matter how much it hurt.

A fuzzy blur of colors flashed through his line of sight, and it took a couple of seconds before his vision adjusted to his new surroundings.

Once it did, he bit down hard on his lip, enough to taste the metallic tang of his own blood, to contain the fear that was threatening to overflow inside him. 

He found himself on his knees, behind a tall purple-skinned alien wearing some type of armor. The alien was facing a large holographic screen on the far wall, speaking to what looked like a dark shadow.

"Please, we come from a peaceful planet! We mean you no harm! We're unarmed!" 

A voice protested from the other side of the room, and Matt didn't even have to look to know that it was Shiro who'd spoken.

The armored alien turned it's head to glare at Shiro, giving Matt a better view of who he had been talking to on the screen.

'Demonic snapping turtle' was the first thing that came to mind, if he was going to relate it to something from Earth. The screen only showed the shadow of the alien's face, which was similar in shape to a snapping turtle, and it had glowing red eyes. It was almost funny, but the heat of its red glare, even through a projected screen, made Matt's blood run cold.

He didn't know who or what it was, but it was definitely a threat to him and his teammates.

Looking around the room, he saw that all of the aliens on the ship had focused their attention on it. Some of them were even bowed to the ground, a position that Matt guessed was a sign of respect. That thing must be their leader.

In another situation, Matt would have laughed at his predicament. Abducted by aliens? That was just science fiction. 

But aliens were real, as he now knew, and since he'd just been kidnapped by what seemed to be an intelligent race of somewhat humanoid beings, the prospect of alien abduction wasn't as intriguing anymore as it once had been. It was terrifying.

These aliens radiated emotions of strong curiosity and anger, he could just tell by their expressions. The way they glared down at him, studying him like a chemist watching a chemical reaction.

It was unsettling, to say the least.

He could feel something hard pressing into his back, and whenever Shiro spoke he felt it dig harder into his flesh. Whatever it was holding him down was angered by Shiro's mutiny, and was taking their anger out on Matt. Matt wanted to turn around, but the way the pressure was centered on his back he was unable to. He wanted to know who or what it was applying this pressure, but it had to be one of these aliens. He didn't try to find out, because he didn't want to know what would happen if he upset them.

He could still move his head, though, so he turned to his left, towards the sound of Shiro's voice. 

An alien soldier had Shiro pinned to the ground with a giant gun, the muzzle pressed between his shoulder blades. 

Matt's eyes widened in fear. If that's how these aliens were containing Shiro, there had to be one at his back too. It had to be the muzzle of a gun causing the painful pressure on his back, and if he moved he was probably going to be shot. 

Slowly, trying to move as less as he possibly could, he looked away from Shiro and turned to his father. 

He was in the same position as Shiro. Gun to his back, staring at the ground. All three of them were trapped, held at the mercy of these creatures.

The fear that Matt felt then was almost crippling, clouding his senses. This was never supposed to happen; how could a simple mission to collect astral bacteria have gone so wrong? He had wanted to find alien life out in space, but nothing like this. 

But he hadn't found them in the first place. They found him first.

At that moment, he desperately wanted some kind of consolidation, some form of comfort. That even though this was literal hell, they would make it out somehow.

It would be a lie, because none of this was okay. Possibility of escape was slim to nothing, judging by the intelligence of these aliens. Futuristic technology was everywhere; androids lined the walls, and small droids drifted through the air. He could barely even comprehend how most of this stuff worked. But he still needed to hear something, anything from another human. 

He was also aware that saying something might get him killed. But his fear had overpowered his rationality a long time ago, and he couldn't care less.

"Shiro!" he yelled, desperation heavy in his cry.

Shiro turned to face Matt so fast that it was surprising he didn't get whiplash. His concerned grey eyes met Matt's, and it scared Matt when he saw a flash of fear in his eyes.

But he didn't have any time to think about it, because suddenly there was a loud CRACK! and his vision went dark.

  


* * *

  


Matt woke up at an unknown amount of time later, slipping in and out of consciousness. He could feel the cool metal floor on his back, so he knew that he was being dragged. 

By what, he didn't know.

But something was squeezing his biceps, so much so that he was going to be left with bruises.

Tilting his head up, Matt found that he was being dragged by two large humanoid androids. 

The were made of some kind of metal, and their design closely resembled that of a suit of armor from the Middle Ages. If they weren't taking him away like a lamb to the slaughter, he probably would have been fascinated by them.

His neck started to hurt from the strain of looking up, so he let his gaze fall back to himself, and he was forced to blink so he could be sure that what he was seeing was real.

Where there had once been a space suit, there was a tattered uniform consisting of a torn purple shirt and a black bodysuit. There was no sign that he'd been from another planet, no special identification. The space suit, along with his identification tags he'd been issued by the Garrison, were gone. 

No one would be able to find him now. 

The robots took him past large, clear windows. Out of curiosity, and wanting to draw his attention away from himself, Matt turned to look through them.

Thousands upon thousands of blocks were stacked upon each other. For some odd reason, though these were most definitely not earth-like in any way, they reminded him of something he'd seen before.

It took only a second for it to click in his brain.

First year at the Garrison, biology class. They'd been looking through microscopes to study the stages of mitosis in plant cells. 

Some of the cells were hard to tell apart, because they were so close together. Exactly like what Matt was looking at now.

Cells.

Could they be...

Matt's theory was confirmed as he passed by more robot alien soldiers, leading other aliens of various species whom were also wearing tattered black-and-purple uniforms. All of them looked hopeless and beaten, bearing ugly burn scars all over their bodies.

Matt felt a shiver run down his spine. He wondered how those aliens had acquired those scars; if he had to guess, they looked more like the result of third-degree burns than anything. 

It would take a lot of heat to cause burns that severe. 

Since he was one of them now, he was scared to know what had happened to them. He might be next.

He probably was next.

The hallway had long since grown dark, the large windows left far behind. 

Lights were scarce; only a few dim purple bulbs lit the path. There wasn't even enough illumination to see down the hall, so Matt felt as if he was being led into the depths of an endless abyss. It didn't help that the atmosphere had become thicker too, making it hard to breathe.

His gaze fell to the ground, and he stared at the lights. There wasn't really anything else to look at.

He wondered what had happened to his father and Shiro. They were gone when he'd woken up, and he didn't know if he would ever see them again. 

With in unpredictable alien race like this, there was no way to tell.

Odd spots began to appear on the floor. The smooth, purple tinted metal he'd been staring at only moments before was gone, defiled by what looked like splattered paint.

Matt started to feel sick when he realized what it was.

That was no paint.

It was blood.

The droplets left a trail, leading towards the only door in the entire hallway.

He almost wouldn't have noticed it, if not for the lights shining on either side of it.

The androids holding him stopped in front of the door, and he froze. They were about to take him in there.

No no no no no. 

His heart was pounding in his chest, slamming against his ribcage. Every muscle in is body tensed, and his breathing came fast and ragged. He didn't want to know what was behind that door.

He didn't even notice one of the androids opening the door via datapad, but once it was open he couldn't look away.

Inside, three ominous, hooded figures wearing long, slanted masks stood in what looked like an operation room. They stood around a large metal table with large clasps on its edges in the room's center, and on either side of the table there were machines that looked like high-tech torture devices. 

It was a hellish combination of what looked like a coven of witches and a medieval torture chamber. Two things that were either long forgotten or merely the subjects of horror movies and shows. Not reality. 

The hooded figures came towards him, and he fought against the android's tight grip as they drew closer, dreading what was to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Bathypalegic Zone: Also known as the Midnight Zone, it is the deepest part of the ocean known to sustain life.
> 
> You can also find this story on [Wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/story/146046342-prisoner-113-1698-editing)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There are brief descriptions of torture in this chapter. If that bothers you, stop reading at "LIES!" and start reading again at "the pain stopped."

The androids threw Matt into the room. They turned away quickly, disappearing back out the door before Matt had even hit the ground. He never even had a chance.

He put his hands out in front of him to brace himself for the fall, but he came down harder than expected. A jolt of pain shot up his arms to his bruised shoulders, and he winced in pain. The androids might not be friendly, but he hadn't necessarily expected them to throw him in here like they had, leaving his life in the hands -or claws- of the ominous figures before him.

Seeing them up close like this made them seem all the more daunting. They were freakishly tall, taller than any known human, dwarfing him by at least a couple of feet. Long, bird-like masks covered their faces and huge purple cloaks concealed the rest of their bodies. If he didn't know any better, Matt would have mistaken them for voodoo shamans, solely due to their outlandish attire.

In only a matter of seconds, before he'd even been able to understand what was going on, he felt hands on him and he was being dragged across the floor. The figures hauled him onto the table, yanking his hands up over his head and pinning both of his wrists as well as his waist down with strong metal bars.

Rendered immobile, Matt could do nothing except stare at his captors. With their proximity, it was hard not to.

If he wasn't seeing them with his own eyes, he wouldn't believe that this was even real. In all honesty, it seemed like a nightmare that he just hadn't been able to wake up from yet.

It didn't help that they seemed to be staring at him, glowering through their slitted masks. He knew because he felt an involuntary chill along his spine, telling him that he was being watched by unseen eyes.

The feeling made his skin crawl.

But every few minutes, he was relieved of their wicked, hidden gaze when they shifted their masked faces to the door.

They would stare at it for a minute or so, then turn back to check on him.

He didn't know why they bothered; he obviously wasn't going anywhere.

This odd, continuous movement oddly reminded Matt of his days at the Galaxy Garrison, back before all of this.

Looking from his professors to the clock mounted on the wall had become routine. Each of his classes lasted about two hours, and a few of his professors tended to lecture, and he would look desperately at the clock, eagerly awaiting the release bell.

The way these witches turned towards the door reminded him of that. They seemed to be waiting for something, maybe even someone to walk through that door.

Matt felt his heart skip a beat.

He had a bad feeling that whomever walked through that door next was going to be horrible. Judging by the fact that he'd already been shackled to a bloodstained torture table by a coven of alien witches, their leader -or whoever it was they were waiting for- had to be much worse.

Since he was unable to move, there was nothing much to do except for stare straight ahead. It was a little nerve-wracking that he had not even the slightest clue as to what he was waiting for, as anything could walk through that door.

His heart rate began to pick up speed, pounding hard in his chest. It battered his ribcage, threatening to break through. The fear was nearly enough to kill him, amplified by his anxiety at the witches' odd behavior.

The silence was deafening; the only audible sound was that of his erratic heartbeat. Being constantly reminded of how scared he was only made him more afraid.

Someone had to say something, he was going to go insane.

"What do you want with me?" he spoke, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper. It was weaker than he'd expected, not that it mattered because he doubted that the witches could understand him anyway.

"We only want you to answer some questions for us, scientist."

A demonic, raspy voice answered him, and Matt felt his blood freeze in his veins. He noticed that the door before him had opened, and that all of the witches had turned towards it. They were muttering something, but he couldn't comprehend it through the blood pounding in his ears.

He watched as a hunched figure stepped into the room, illuminated by the dim violet lighting. It wore a long, flowing cloak just like the other witches, but judging by its behavior, it was the leader.

This, whomever it was, was who the other witches had been waiting for. If Matt had needed any more conformation that these aliens were evil, then this was it.

At the sound of their voices, the figure raised its head.

Matt went stiff in his restraints when he saw her face.

Her face.

This witch wore no mask, and Matt was beginning to understand why the others wore theirs.

She had wrinkled purple skin that had to be at least a couple of centuries old, and long red marks scouring the sides of her head. In the dim lighting, they almost looked like angry, red scars.

Her eyes were bright yellow, full of malevolent intent, and Matt knew in that moment that there was something dark hidden within her words. She was going to do much more than question him-by the way the witches were situated in a circle around his table, he had a feeling that this was going to be some kind of interrogation.

Judging by the way she was smirking, radiating power despite her old age, she was much more dangerous than she seemed.

Matt, staring fearfully at the glowing ball of energy slowly beginning to grow in her palm, which he hadn't seen before, knew that he was most definitely screwed. He had no idea what it was, but if she set it off on him, it would most likely hurt.

"Now, scientist, this shouldn't be hard. Tell us what we want to know, and you won't suffer at all. Otherwise-" the glowing ball of energy in her palm burned brighter to emphasize her point "-we'll make you tell us anyway."

Matt could only stare at her fearfully, all words lost on his tongue. He had no idea how to respond to that.

  


* * *

  


"What were you doing at a Galran outpost?" A witch to Matt's left asked, holding their glowing hand inches from his shoulder.

The witches' hand was close enough to him that he could feel warmth radiating from it. The feeling was similar to that of being near a fire, just much more dangerous. These witches had already made it all too obvious that they didn't like him at all, so this was probably a passive-aggressive way of threatening him.

He had no idea what a 'Galran outpost' was, but he knew that If he didn't answer the question, these witches were going to torture him. He didn't really know how, but if the glowing hands had anything to say for it, he was going to get shocked with some kind of energy.

Or maybe it was magic. That is, if these really were witches.

It was hard to tell.

Getting shocked by alien electricity, or magic, for that matter, would hurt like hell either way. He was going to have to make something up, and fast.

"I-I have no idea what a Galra outpost is." he answered truthfully, eyeing the witch's upraised hands warily.

"One of them is located where we found you and your fellow scientists, on that icy moon." a voice curtly responded, getting right to the point.

Oh, Kerberos. Of course.

"Scientific purposes. We were there for scientific purposes." he clarified, answering just as quickly, hoping that his voice didn't sound too shaky. He was terrified, after all.

"What scientific purposes?"

Matt and the witches soon fell into a steady rhythm. They would ask him a question, and he would answer. All of the questions they had asked so far correlated with each other, so he was already prepared with an answer.

"To study the composition of Kerberos's surface. We were going to study the ice." he fought to keep his voice calm, so that the witches didn't accuse him of lying. A wavering voice often caused suspicion.

"Why were you going to study the ice?"

Matt opened his mouth to respond, but closed it almost immediately. He hadn't seen this one coming.

This one he was going to have to think about. He didn't want to tell them the truth, but it seemed he had no choice.

"To find possible traces of oxygen in it. We planned on studying the elements that make up the ice."

It wasn't exactly true, per se, but a half truth was better than the whole truth, or lying altogether.

"Why?"

Of course they would ask him to elaborate...he settled for reiterating what he had already said, hoping that it would be enough.

"I told you. We were going to test the ice for the presence of certain elements, that's all."

"LIES!"

The maskless witch shrieked, and all of the witches raised their hands, illuminated by the energy emanating from their palms. The foreign energy cracked and sparked wildly, growing ever stronger, before they thrust it upon him.

The next few seconds were an insane, painful rollercoaster.

It was as if a supernova had occurred within Matt's body. Everything hurt, all at once, and his nerves were ablaze, spreading wildfire from within.

The chains enclosed around his wrists went from freezing to scalding in a matter of seconds, and the skin beneath began to blister. It was made all the more worse because these shackles held most of his weight, and they peeled back his scorched skin.

A scream rent the air, a distant cry that sounded like nothing Matt had ever heard before. The voice was raw and wild, a nearly animalistic sound expressing intense pain, as if the individual was being tortured.

It soon became background noise, refusing to cease. Matt would almost feel pity for whoever it was, if he wasn't in so much pain himself.

Though the voice was oddly familiar, despite having gone up a couple octaves higher than normal.

He knew that voice.

It was his.

But he couldn't feel anything. He could hear the screams, but it sounded like they could have come from another person altogether.

Is this what dying feels like?

Black dots were scattering across his vision, and the witches' power had merged into a bright, colorful blur around him. The nausea that he'd felt since the first volt of cosmic energy had touched him began to subside, and the witches themselves swam through the air as distorted blobs.

His eyelids grew heavy, and he closed his eyes. If he was going to suffer through this, he'd rather be unconscious...

The pain stopped.

There was no warning, no aftershock, nothing. It was just... over. For a second, having it end was almost freeing.

But that didn't mean that he couldn't feel the marks that the torture had left behind.

A raging burn lingered on his skin, and Matt felt as if he'd been dragged through a fire. Not one part of his body was untouched, and he knew that the burns he'd sustained would leave behind ugly scars.

He realized then that he'd forgotten to breathe during this whole ordeal, somehow. He started sucking in air greedily, inhaling as if he hadn't breathed in years.

Exhausted, too weak to even attempt to hold his own weight, he went limp in the now blazing shackles encircled around his wrists. The red-hot metal pulled and tugged at his skin, creating painful blisters.

He sucked in a breath at the pain. Everything hurt, but he was too weak to express it. What little voice he had left had been taken away after he was tortured; if he could speak at all, it would only be a quiet rasp.

Voices echoed in the room, surrounding him like thick fog. He couldn't decipher what they were saying, as his ears were ringing from both his screams and the buzz of electricity. It was as if he was trapped in a static abyss, moving between blurred colors an muffled sound.

After a couple more minutes of inhaling the air he so desperately needed and letting his thoughts clear, he realized that he was hearing the voices of the witches. And they seemed to be talking about him.

Through the muddled thoughts and echoes clouding his brain, the voices started to come into focus. Every few seconds, he could've sworn that he'd caught a word or two.

"...Dead?"

"...weak"

"It's not over..."

"Unfinished..."

Putting the few fragments of speech together that he could understand, Matt concluded that they were definitely talking about him. What they planned on doing to him, in particular.

No no no no _no._

Not again.

Straining his neck, he tried to lift his head to speak to them, despite being practically unable to form words after screaming so loudly earlier. He wasn't going to let them torture him again.

Not that he had much of a choice in the matter; they were obviously the higher power here.

But before he could say anything, a purple, clawed finger touched his chin and lifted his head up, forcing him to look into the burning yellow eyes of the Witch.

"So-" she paused, likely for dramatic effect "-do you think you can answer us now?"

Matt had never wanted to escape more than he did in that moment.

"Okay." he sighed in defeat. If he wanted to get out of this alive, he had to tell the witches what they wanted to hear. "My crew and I- we left our home planet," he was careful to avoid saying 'Earth,' "to look for signs of life on Kerberos. We were collecting ice samples so that we-"

Lying wasn't an option anymore. Telling the truth was, hopefully, the only thing that would get him out of there. But he would have to be smart about his decisions. "- could test them for microorganisms."

The Witch raised her glowing hand before Matt's chest, prepared to shock him again, but their hand was pulled back by another of the masked witches.

"Stop. He's telling the truth." It said, with the same demonic accent as the others.

"Okay, then. Where's your home planet?" the Witch spoke again, only slightly lowering her hand. It wasn't completely reassuring, but it was something.

Matt had already anticipated this question, so he was prepared with the perfect lie.

He had been found on Kerberos, so they should believe him if he lied and claimed to live there. Besides, these witches knew, or seemed to know, absolutely nothing about humans. They would never know it was a lie.

"Pluto. Kerberos is our moon, and the few of us-my crew and I- got sent there to study the lifeforms that could be living there." he exclaimed confidently, trying to push down his fear as much as possible.

No response from the witches.

For a few seconds, the only sound in the room was the strange echo of his ragged breathing. So quiet, yet so loud.

It was slightly nerve-wracking, as he could also feel all of the witches' burning gold glares directed at him, cold and calculating. Even through the slits of the masks, he knew that the witches could see him.

Simultaneously, the witches turned towards each other. They exchanged a few whispered words, some glancing back at Matt. As time passed, the conversation started to get more heated, the anger apparent in their voices.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, all four of the witches turned around to face him once again.

Matt was unable to know the emotions of the masked witches, since their faces were hidden. But the hunched, purple-skinned one with the yellow eyes was obviously angry, the burn of her glare boring holes into his very being.

This wasn't going to end well for him.

"There is no life on Pluto. Never has been. You and the others like you do not live there."

She stated it like a fact, but Matt knew it was a blatant accusation.

He barely had time to brace himself before he was once again assaulted by violet lightning.

"AAAGH!" he cried out in pain. "I don't even know what a Galran outpost is! Tell me what that is, and maybe I'll answer your questions! But if you want me to say anything, you have to cease fire!" he yelled out, surprising himself. Somehow, the pain had made him bolder.

Surprisingly, the witches' stopped their onslaught, and answered his question. Through the haze of pain and his own screams, once again stuffing up his mind like a heavy blanket, he heard them say:

"We are the Galra. Led by Emperor Zarkon, lord of the known universe. Our soldiers are placed at our outposts all throughout the galaxy to monitor activities within, and on the outermost of the Galra Empire. Now, we have answered your questions, so you must answer ours."

Within his clouded, partially functional mind, Matt made some conclusions. The Galra were an alien race hellbent on conquering the universe, he now knew. Even more reason that he shouldn't tell them about Earth.

"No." He inhaled a rough, heaving breath. Fighting the fatigue that was starting to close in, he lifted his head of his own volition to meet the glare of the Witch. "I told you what you wanted to know."

The witches' magic flickered out, and they lowered their hands, palms facing the ground. Matt groaned, the shackles tugging at his fresh wounds.

No one said anything for a second, then...

"Make him talk." one of the masked Galra spoke calmly, and Matt watched as, once again, they raised their palms up to him. Together, they combined the ethereal energy emanating from their hands and directed it towards him.

The electrical blast hit Matt like a tsunami wave. Intense pain overcame his entire body, burning his veins and scorching his bones from the inside out. He even felt as if his skin was melting off, like he'd been set on fire.

He screamed, the sound loud and high enough in pitch that he knew that he sounded like a demon being exorcised. It was loud, and the pain he was feeling was expressed in the tone.

But no matter how much it hurt, how much it burned, he refused to give in. These Galran witches could melt all of the skin from his body and he wouldn't say anything. Protecting his family, his home, his planet, was much more important than saving himself.

All of a sudden, the pain began to dull. He could still feel the raging electrical currents surging through his veins, but they weren't as powerful as they'd been before. Fatigue had begun to take over, wrapping around him like a warm blanket.

Matt ventured gratefully into the dark, warm abyss of unconsciousness. But before he was completely out of it, he could've sworn that he'd heard one of the witches speak.

_"We will break you."_


	3. Chapter 3

Matt awoke suddenly, feeling a sharp pain in his arm. His eyes snapped open immediately, and he shot up from his current position, ready to defend himself, only to fall back from the pain. All of the burns he'd sustained earlier flared up at once, and something around his chest constricted his breathing, making it hard for him to inhale the stale air around him. 

Falling back onto his pillow, Matt looked up at the ceiling above him, trying to ignore the pain. He had thought that the sting that had awoken him had come from the witches, but he knew now that it had just been his burns flaring up. 

Since it hurt to move, he tried to lie as still as possible while also assessing his surroundings. It wasn't easy, but it would have to do.

The ceiling was the same dark grey as the torture chamber had been, and the dim purple glow illuminating the sides of the wall were all too familiar. But there were also shelves along the wall stocked with chemicals, and jars stuffed with somewhat-recognizable medical supplies, like gauze and needles. All of the materials held in a typical doctors' office, with some other odd devices that he didn't recognize. The sight of some of them made him shiver, especially the ones hanging over him like weaponized tree limbs, with long blades or spikes dangling from the ends, aimed at his face.

An involuntary shiver forced itself up his spine, and he slowly looked away. He didn't want to think about what those were meant for.

It hit him then, where he was. 

At some point, after his interrogation and in between the time in which he'd passed out and now, he'd been brought here. But based on what he knew about these aliens, he was surprised that they would bring him somewhere like this when they could have just killed him.

He was in a hospital. An alien, space hospital, but a hospital nonetheless. 

There was a long, clear tube extending from his arm, and he could tell that it had to be an IV of some sort. Even though the liquid traveling through it was a bright violet, unlike the clear isotonic solution he would have been given if this were in a hospital on Earth. He wondered what it was, but he currently had no way of knowing, since he'd never seen anything like it before. 

The bandages covered most of his body, and there was fluffy, white gauze where angry red burns should have been. It took him a second to realize that he wasn't even wearing a shirt; the purple rag that he'd been wearing earlier had been removed. With all of these bandages on, it had been hard to tell. 

Clothed in nothing but thin black pants, Matt began to shiver as he truly realized how cold the room was. The pants and the bandages were the only things guarding him from the chill, and they weren't enough.

There was a thin blanket tangled around his legs, concealing the lower half of his body. Knowing that it was the only other source of warmth he was going to get, Matt pulled himself up and tried reaching for it. 

Pain shot up his arms and down his back, and he groaned at the sensation. In his desperation to warm himself, he'd reawakened his wounds, and he could feel the friction of his raw skin against the bandages. 

He hadn't been able to reach the blanket because his wrists were bound to the metal table, clasped in padded handcuffs. More bandages covered the ravaged skin beneath the cuffs, wrapped around his wrists like armbands. Most likely a safety precaution to keep him from hurting himself, but also to prevent him from escape. 

The table was metal, just like the one he'd been strapped to for the duration of his interrogation. It was cold, and it felt like ice on his bare back.

If only the aliens had been nice enough to let him keep his shirt on. 

An involuntary flash of pain, not unfamiliar to the one that had awoken him, suddenly flashed up his arm. He sucked in a scream, pulling back in his shackles. The sharp, scratched edges of the metal pulled back on Matt's bandages, exposing the raw, burned skin beneath. Friction against the cuffs resulted in more flashes of pain, and it was all too easy for Matt's world to turn, for him to find himself back where he'd started.

_His back was pressed against cold metal, stained with the blood of other unlucky prisoners. All of it had long since dried, but that didn't comfort him at all, knowing that his blood would soon join the other multicolored splatters._

_A slight ache awakened in his arms, caused by having them suspended over his head. The sensation of cool metal around his wrists returned, a morbid reminder of the shackles that were enclosed around them._

_The three witches gathered around him, and the maskless one stood before the table, her hand raised. A ball of dark violet energy was accumulating at her palm, and Matt already knew what was about to happen. He turned away from her, bracing himself for the inevitable pain._

_A burning sensation passed throughout his entire body, making him feel as if he was being cooked from the inside out. It only got worse from there, with the pain increasing every second, and the stench of burning flesh filling the air._

_His wrists had been set ablaze, and he could strong pressure on both of his shoulders told him that something was holding him down._

Wait. He didn't remember that happening...

The androids had left him alone with the witches. They hadn't been there while he was being tortured, or he would've remembered. Their strong grip was the only thing he could think of to explain the pressure he was feeling, pushing him down onto the table.

It was that realization that flung him back into reality.

He hadn't realized that his eyes had been closed during his flashback, but he opened them to blink away tears, and then found himself staring into two pairs of yellow eyes. 

Alien eyes.

Matt lurched back, struggling to escape their grip. It was futile, though; they were too strong. He also successfully tore back the bandages around his wrists, and he yelped when he felt the cuffs rub against his exposed skin. 

"Be still." he heard one of the aliens growl as he thrashed in his grip. He completely ignored it, continuing to thrash as much as possible in his restraints. He'd had enough of being tortured and abused by aliens for one day-no, scratch that-forever. All he wanted was to get back to his team. 

_If they're even still alive,_ a voice in the back of his mind supplied. He forced the thought away, burying it as deep as he possibly could within his brain.

 _You don't know that,_ another voice of reason added, but it only made Matt feel worse. He knew he couldn't force it away and try to convince himself it wasn't possible, but the thought that his team had been killed continued to nag at him. 

That was the worst part about everything that had happened so far since he'd been abducted. He couldn't know anything for certain, and these aliens were as unpredictable as his sister. That is, he knew a few things about them, but there was a chance that they would do something that would end up surprising him. But unlike Pidge, it wasn't going to be a good surprise. 

God, did he miss her. And judging by his current situation, he might never get to see her again.

A sharp pain suddenly flared in his neck, tearing him from his nostalgia. He turned towards its source, and when he saw what was, he immediately regretted it. 

Matt had never been a big fan of needles. Hated them, actually. The thought of those long, silver devices inserting something into his skin...

He shivered violently, despite being soaked in his own sweat. But seeing a large, half inch thick needle extending from his neck to a cylinder filled with a magenta liquid was enough to mortify him. 

Too afraid to watch but also too curious too look away, Matt watched as all of the liquid was injected into his neck until the cylinder was emptied. The alien at Matt's opposite side brought a bandage out of its uniform, handing it over to the one with the empty syringe. 

The alien had to relinquish his grip on Matt's shoulder to reach for the bandage, and Matt would've used that moment of vulnerability to his own advantage if he wasn't already tied down. 

Light pressure was applied around the needle before it was expertly pulled out and replaced with the bandage. The syringe was then discarded, thrown across the room and into a wastebasket.

Watching the syringe disappear over the lip of the basket and hoping that this was all over and he could leave and be anywhere but here, Matt looked desperately up at the two aliens hovering over him. 

Neither gave him their full attention, and it likely wouldn't have even mattered if they did, because they were too engrossed in their work. He was merely a test subject to them, nothing else.

A small knife, looking somewhat like an Earth scalpel with a glowing edge, was detached from one of the machines above Matt by one of the aliens. 

Matt knew that he should be concerned by whatever the alien planned on doing to him, but every part of his body hurt and he reasoned that whatever more pain the aliens caused would join everything else, and he would be almost numb to it.

The bandage used to cover the insertion area of the needle was peeled away, exposing the irritated, flushed skin beneath. Carefully, the sharp edge of the knife was dragged across the area, creating a small slit in the flesh.

It felt like nothing more than a papercut; it stung, but it wasn't going to kill him. He could feel the alien press a small object, likely no larger than a grain of rice, into the wound. Before he could ask what they had put inside of him, all of his words faded on his tongue, transforming into screams. 

Instead of sewing up the small cut, or leaving it to heal on its own, the aliens cauterized it. They used a small glowing stick which they pressed up against the cut to close it. Once the flesh began to burn, the horrible smell dragged Matt down into another flashback. 

_The Witch was glaring at him with her burning yellow eyes. She hovered beside him as she kept a continuous beam of purple energy concentrated on his body, along with the other witches. A wretched odor hung in the air, growing ever stronger as the witches electrocuted him._

_It didn't take long for him to identify said wretched odor as the scorching of his own skin, which made it all worse. The stench alone was enough to turn his stomach, and before he knew it, he had leaned over the table and was throwing up everything he'd eaten in the past 24 hours._

Leaving a painful migraine behind, his flashback faded away and he returned to the hospital room. The pressure on his wrists was gone, and since he was literally leaning over the examination table with both hands on the edge, he guessed that it was obvious he'd been released from his handcuffs.

Both of the aliens had him by the shoulders, keeping him stable. One of them was nice enough to wipe his mouth after he'd emptied his stomach, which he was grateful for. It seemed odd that they would take care of him like this, when only seconds ago they'd been treating him like a lab rat. 

Too weak to fight back now, Matt lay still on the table with his wrists unbound. The two aliens left him there, checking back on him every once in a while to make sure he wasn't going to try and escape while they cleaned their workplace.

He'd nearly fallen asleep out of pure exhaustion when he felt the aliens roughly haul him off of the table and onto his feet. Taken by surprise, he stumbled and would have fallen if the aliens hadn't been supporting him. 

They took on most of his weight, so he barely had to put any weight on his feet as he walked forward. Well, tried to walk. He was still on the brink of exhaustion, and his brain couldn't even process simple things, such as knowing how to walk properly. It took all of the brain power he had left to continue moving forward.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Just one foot in front of the other. 

It felt like decades had passed when the trio finally stopped in front of a cell door. Matt hung limp in the aliens' grip, losing consciousness quickly. He barely registered the door sliding open, revealing a large group of black silhouettes lined along the far wall behind it.

One of them detached itself from the rest of the group, heading towards him. He could've sworn that he'd heard someone call his name, someone familiar, but it was probably just fatigue messing with his head. 

The aliens relinquished their grip on him, throwing him into the cell. By now, Matt could have cared less whether or not he hit the floor. But when he felt something catch him, breaking his fall, he melted into their hold gratefully. He fell asleep immediately.  


* * *

  
When he woke up, however many hours later, he found himself wrapped in strong arms. Fear struck him like lightning, and he fought against the grip the arms had around him. He'd been held down too many times to count already.

While he struggled, he could've sworn that he'd heard his name being called repeatedly, as if someone was trying to calm him down. He ignored it, continuing to thrash around in attempt to free himself from the unnamed alien's clutches. His muscles and wounds screamed for him to stop, as he was exerting himself to the limit. 

But he couldn't stop. He'd been through enough torture to last a lifetime, and he wasn't ready to go through any more.

Unfortunately, he wasn't as strong as he would like to be, and eventually he was no longer able to fight back. His muscles were sore from fighting someone much larger than him and he could feel blood leaking from re-opened wounds. The only choice he had was to give up. Exhaling a ragged sigh, he curled up on himself, and whimpered, "Go ahead, do whatever you want with me. I don't care anymore." 

He soon realized that must have been the wrong choice of words, because what he heard next wasn't what he'd expected to hear, if he had gotten a reply at all. As a matter of fact, he never expected to hear _his_ voice ever again.

"Oh, Matt..." 

Shiro.

The tight grip on Matt's arms loosened, and he took the chance to pull himself free. He turned away from his captor, gently curling his arms around himself. Tears burned in his eyes, and he tried to focus on his breathing. This couldn't be real...

It was at that moment that he could really feel the cold air. He was still shirtless, and he had to admit that being in- he sighed, because he didn't know that whoever was behind him was actually Shiro- the aliens' arms had been much better than this. The black pants and the bandages, if they even counted, were his only sources of warmth now. He almost considered turning back around and going back to where he'd been only seconds ago, but he forced that thought away immediately. 

If he turned back, he would find out the truth. What he saw behind him would confirm whether or not his closest friend, whom had seemed so far away only recently, was sitting merely a couple feet from him. He knew that finding out he was wrong would only break his heart, but if he was right...

Shutting his eyes, Matt slowly turned around. No matter what, he had to know. 

Once he knew that he was face-to-face to whoever was behind him without looking, he blinked his eyes open. 

Sitting in front of him, unbelievably, was Shiro. Same black hair, grey eyes, and...well, the black jumpsuit and purple shirt were new, but that was it. He could tell that the man was trying to hold himself together, to keep a good composure for him, but Matt saw right through it.

He was biting his lip hard enough that he'd already drawn blood, and tears were welling in his eyes. Matt already knew that he was the reason he looked like that, and he hated it.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Matt flung his arms around Shiro's neck. His impact knocked the larger man backwards, but Shiro hugged Matt back just as fiercely. His arms wrapped around Matt's waist, pulling him closer. 

Matt buried his face in his friend's shoulder, and curled up against his chest. He wasn't planning on letting go anytime soon.

"God, you don't know how much I missed you..." Matt whispered into Shiro's shoulder, wetting the purple fabric of his ragged prison uniform with his tears. He thought he'd lost his friend, so being here, in his arms, was an almost surreal experience. 

Shiro remained mute; though the way he was holding Matt said enough. He had one arm over the smaller man's waist, while the other gently stroked his unmarked skin. His touch was extremely gentle, and he treated Matt as if he would break if he pressed too hard.

The duo didn't say anything for a couple of moments, content with just being in each other's arms. But there was an unspoken tension between them, and Matt could tell by the way Shiro was touching him, deliberately avoiding his wounds, that there was something wrong.

He knew what it was before Shiro said a word. 

"What-what happened to you?" Shiro spoke quietly, pulling away slightly to get a good look at Matt. He carefully pried one of Matt's scarred arms from around his neck, handling his wrist as someone would a newborn animal. 

Matt tensed, avoiding Shiro's eyes. Instead of answering, he remained silent. Recalling his torture was something he wasn't ready to talk about yet, and may never be. 

After not getting a response, Shiro removed his gaze from Matt's wrist to his eyes. Smoke grey met honey brown as the two glanced at each other. The pain swimming in Matt's honey eyes was unmistakable, and though Shiro wanted to know what had happened to him, he knew it was best not to push it. Judging by his injuries, he'd been through a lot already. 

Matt was grateful for it, though he knew it was hard for him not to stare. He knew that he looked like he'd been thrown into Hell and left to die, barely surviving the ordeal and escaping with countless burns.

It actually wasn't even that far from the truth. 

"Have you seen this?" Shiro asked, changing the subject by holding Matt's wrist out in front of him. 

Shiro's voice brought Matt out of his thoughts, and he changed his focus to his wrist.

At first, he wasn't even sure what he was supposed to be looking at. He knew he had ugly scars; he didn't need to see them again.

But upon closer inspection, he realized that some of the bandage had been loosened and peeled back. While it did showcase a few nasty blisters, there was something else there, too.

Beneath the layers of soiled white fabric, Matt discovered a set of foreign symbols tattooed onto his inner wrist. The symbols had been tattooed in black ink, painfully visible on his swollen red skin. Those hadn't been there before.

"What do you think it means?" he inquired, turning back to Shiro. 

"No idea. But I've got one too." he pulled back his black shirtsleeve to reveal a set of nearly identical characters imprinted on his forearm. "But," he said, pulling his sleeve back down, "I think that this is some means of identification." 

"You mean like a serial number?" 

Shiro sighed. "Yeah, something like that."

Matt looked back at the black symbols, wondering what they meant when translated. If he had to guess, this was probably nothing more than a set of numbers to identify him. Like the other prisoners.

The other prisoners.

It was then that he had an odd feeling that someone was watching him. Well, multiple someones. He doubted that he and Shiro were alone in this cell.

His theory was confirmed after a quick glance around the cell, finding at least eight aliens, all of different races, scattered around the room. Most of them were staring at him and Shiro, and some even seemed fascinated by their exchange. 

Matt blushed in embarrassment. He didn't necessarily like having so much attention directed at him, and it made him uncomfortable. But he realized that there was something missing among the group, as he looked at the aliens.

Well, _someone._

"Takashi?" he addressed Shiro, trying to suppress the fear creeping into his heart.

Shiro held him tighter, surprised by the use of his first name. No one ever used it-only Matt and his ex-boyfriend, Adam, had ever called him that.

"Yeah?"

Matt inhaled deeply. "Where's my father?"

He heard a pained sigh above him, and knew he wasn't going to like the answer. 

"Matt, I-I have no idea. After the aliens took both of us away, Commander Holt was taken somewhere else. I haven't seen him since we were captured. I'm so sorry." 

The news hit Matt like a physical blow. It wasn't like he hadn't expected this to happen, but it hurt to hear the truth. It was one thing to imagine it, but to have it confirmed was something completely different.

Sensing Matt's distress, Shiro pulled him closer, squeezing him as tight as possible without hurting him.

"Hey, it's okay. We'll find him, no matter what. I won't give up. And-" his voice lowered from a soothing almost-whisper to a growl "-I'm not going to let them hurt you ever again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been edited.

"Hey Matt?"

"Yeah?" Matt answered sleepily. He was leaning against Shiro's shoulder, and he'd been asleep until he heard the other man's voice. 

"Do you remember that one time, at the Garrison-" Shiro paused, as if he was trying to find the words, "-it must have been 2:00 in the morning, and you dragged me from my room because you wanted me to help you make ramen."

Matt's eyes widened. He was fully awake now, all fatigue gone, and his face flushed a vivid red. "Oh, no. Shiro don't-" he already knew where this was going, and he didn't like it. 

"I agreed, because I didn't know what I was getting myself into." He paused to gauge Matt's reaction, and wasn't disappointed by what he saw.

If possible, Matt's face was even redder than it had been before, and he looked like he was seriously considering strangling him. 

Unfazed, Shiro continued, "So when we made it to the Garrison's kitchen, we ran into unexpected company. There was a cadet-what was his name? Hunk?" 

Matt had been trying to seem angry, but he couldn't help it anymore. His anger dissolved into laughter, this story all too familiar, and had to get his bearings before he could answer.

"Yeah, I think that was it." he confirmed. "He looked so scared when he saw us! It was like he thought we were Garrison personnel, out to get him for committing a crime or something!" he exclaimed, smiling like an idiot.

"What are you talking about?" Shiro argued, furrowing his eyebrows. "I am Garrison personnel, of course he was scared!"

Matt raised a questioning eyebrow, and smirked. "Oh really? 'Cause you didn't act like it when you tried to blame me for being there. If I didn't know better, you almost seemed to be afraid of him, instead of the other way around." 

Shiro glared down at him, offended, ready to get back at him for his statement, but all the words left him when he saw Matt's expression. 

He was smiling. He seemed to be truly happy for the first time in what felt like weeks, and it was contagious. Shiro couldn't help but smile back, and soon both of them were laughing as if they were kids again. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Shiro could see that the other prisoners were watching them. They stared curiously at the pair with wide eyes, obviously shocked that they could be happy in a place like this. But they couldn't help but be intrigued by the story, and at some point they had all clustered around the two humans. 

Seeing that he now had an audience, Shiro annunciated his story with more vigor than before, much to Matt's dismay. 

It was bad enough that Shiro was reminding him of this- _memorable incident_ \- but now he was announcing it to the entire cell. Great. Was this how he was going to be remembered? Would all of his crazy Garrison ideas finally come back to get him?

The way this was going, he assumed the answer was yes. 

"So," Shiro began again, unable to keep the smile off of his face, "Hunk ashamedly admitted that he'd only been in the kitchen for a midnight snack, promising he wouldn't do it again, before running off with an armful of cinnamon rolls. I remember we laughed about it for weeks afterward because of how awkward it was, but that wasn't even the craziest thing that happened that night. Actually, it was far from it." he paused, looking thoughtful. "You know, now that I'm thinking about it, the Garrison never makes desserts. That cadet must have made those himself, and I'm glad he wasn't there for the disaster that ensued. He most definitely would be offended by your terrible cooking skills." 

Matt didn't react for a second, before he deadpanned, "You shouldn't be judging my cooking skills when you can't even cook yourself." 

Shiro scoffed in disbelief. "Well, exploding ramen is not cooking, Matt. You said, and I quote, "Cooking is chemistry, but instead of chemicals we're using food. This is going to be easy." However, your 'chemistry' usually results in an explosion. We were supposed to be cooking ramen, not determining all of the ways to combust it!" 

"What can I say? Combustion reactions are my favorite." Matt admitted. "Besides," he raised an eyebrow at Shiro, "yeeting the ramen flavor packet to infinity and eating the dry noodles is NOT cooking! You should be ashamed, Shiro." 

Shiro smirked, already prepared with a comeback. "Says Matt 'what the Garrison doesn't know' Holt, who took Keith to the flight simulator after-hours. He was supposed to be learning how to follow the rules, not how to break them! You're a bad influence, Matt." 

Matt's hazel eyes widened in horror. "How did you-" his voice came out as a loud, tinny squeak, but he cleared his throat to make it sound deeper. "I mean, what? Keith's never been in the flight simulator when he wasn't supposed to be. Knowing how close you watch that kid, you'd never let him get away with it, in the event that IT DID HAPPEN, WHICH IT DID NOT." 

"Mmhm." Shiro mumbled, disbelieving. "Then how do you explain Keith with a very familiar engineer whom-shall-not-be-named? I saw the security cameras, Matt. I know it was you."

Sighing, Matt relented. "Okay, FINE, it was me. But seriously, if you caught me in action, then why didn't you report me? And if you saw it, then everyone else must have too-!" 

"What makes you think the Garrison ever saw those tapes?" Shiro interrupted.

Matt's mouth fell open; he couldn't believe what he was hearing. " Are you kidding? You hid those tapes? For me?"

"Well..." Shiro laughed guiltily. "I might've burned the footage onto some disks before deleting it from the security memory. Besides, I didn't do it for you. I did it for Keith." 

A frown formed on Matt's face, and Shiro instantly felt bad, knowing that he'd probably ruined the mood. 

As he wracked his brain for something to say in apology, Matt responded with a small smile and said, "Ouch. You just wanted someone to blame in case that footage was found."

"No, actually." Shiro admitted truthfully, glad that Matt was still sarcastic as ever. "I did, however, strongly consider turning both of you in because that's what the Garrison's rules state. But when I actually watched those tapes, I changed my mind because I saw how happy Keith was. He's a natural-it's like piloting is in his blood. Using the flight simulators after-hours is nothing I wouldn't put past him, because he used to break rules a lot, so I've heard, before we met." he felt a slight pang of sadness talking about Keith, the kid he'd practically adopted as his apprentice. He wondered how he was doing back at the Garrison without him.

"Really? Like what?"

Matt's voice disrupted his thoughts, bringing him back to reality. It took Shiro a second to process what Matt had said, and when he did, he realized that he didn't have an answer. 

Keith had done so many crazy things, most of which Shiro had actually helped him get away with. He couldn't figure out which one he should tell Matt about first, and if he went through all of them, this could take a while.

But he had the time. There wasn't much else he could do in a cramped cell like this. 

Deciding then that he would tell the stories in chronological order, he started with the first time he met Keith. Matt hadn't heard it before, so Shiro was curious to see what his reaction would be. 

"Well...I actually first met Keith when I visited his school. The Galaxy Garrison wanted to inspire more kids to join the Aerospace program, so they sent me there as a guest speaker. My role was to get them to demonstrate their skills in a mock flight simulator; basically a virtual reality video game."

"Wait, what? Why didn't you take my sister with you? She loves video games, she would've been great at that!" Matt protested.

"'Great' is an understatement, Matt. Your sister is amazing at video games, and sadly I can say that I know from experience. She would have destroyed everyone there, it would be an unfair advantage! Besides, she's too young to have participated anyway."

Matt scoffed humorlessly. "Like that ever stopped her."

"True." Shiro had to agree; Katie was a force to be reckoned with when she wanted to be. "Anyway, as I was saying, I had to get these kids to play a video game. Their goal in the game was to navigate an asteroid belt without getting hit using the controls. It sounds simple, but it was more difficult than it seemed. As a matter of fact, most of the kids couldn't even make it past level three. But Keith, however, made it past level five." he sighed, remembering that moment. To think about how long it had been since then, how much Keith had changed. That the kid who no one could ever believe in had gotten into the Galaxy Garrison, and had excelled to the top of his class. Shiro wondered what he was doing now, if he was looking to the stars as they had every night before the Kerberos Mission, waiting for him to come back. 

"The other kids all swore that he cheated, causing a commotion. It upset Keith so much that he stormed away from the group and left. Jumped a car and took off." 

"Whose car did he steal? Do you know?" Matt inquired suggestively, having an idea as to who the car owner was.

A small smile appeared on Shiro's face, and he answered somewhat reluctantly, "mine. I probably shouldn't have left it so close to the flight simulator, and I guess I learned that lesson the hard way." 

Matt stared at Shiro for a good minute or so, trying to see if he was telling the truth. But he usually never lied, and he hadn't exhibited any of the telltale signs of lying either. Realizing that he was serious, Matt collapsed into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. 

"Okay, that's a good one! I can see it now: 'Galaxy Garrison pilot outsmarted by a 16 year-old prodigy!'" he announced the last part like a news headline, as if the rest of the world would also find it amusing. He turned to bury his face in Shiro's shoulder, muffling his laughter. 

Instinctively, Shiro wrapped his arm around Matt's shoulders and held him close. He started rubbing his friend's back in order to calm him, but it didn't seem to be working. Matt seemed to be enjoying this way more than he should be. 

Through his laughter, Matt managed to say, "It's kinda ironic that you took Keith under your wing after he stole your car. He's the kind of person that can't be trusted; next thing you know, he's going to steal one of the Garrison's aircrafts!" 

"Actually, I was just about to get to that. Keith did that next."

"What?!" Matt looked up at him in disbelief. "Shiro, how come you never tell me these things? I thought we were friends!" 

Smirking mischievously, Shiro waited a couple of seconds before answering, "I know how you are Matt. I don't trust you with that kind of information. If I'd told you about that, it would've been all over the Garrison the next day. And of course Iverson would find out, and he'd probably deny Keith's application immediately. The Garrison was his ticket at a better life; I didn't want to ruin it for him." The humor faded from his voice, and in that moment, he realized how much he missed Keith. The kid was like the little brother he'd never had. Since his parents had died when he was seventeen, Shiro had been able to understand him better than anyone else. Now, he didn't know if he'd ever see him again. 

It took him a second to realize that he'd directed his own anguish at Matt, without meaning to. He hadn't meant to say all that; it had just come out as he spoke. Being grounded in a cell, far from Earth, was really starting to get to him. 

Suddenly, he felt something warm touch him, and he look down to find Matt's hand entwined with his. 

"Hey, I know how you feel. I miss Katie." It was like Matt had read his mind. 

A small smile formed on his face from the kind gesture, and Shiro opened his mouth to respond. But before he could say a word, the door slid open.

As if a bomb had been installed into the door, all of the prisoners put as much space between it and themselves as possible. When Shiro saw what they were so afraid of, he felt his heart skip a beat. 

_Not again._

Grabbing the shredded collar of Matt's shirt, Shiro yanked him to his chest. He wrapped his arms protectively around Matt's torso, keeping his eyes on the sentries that were now filing through the doorway. 

All of the other aliens in the cell that had been listening to Matt and Shiro's storytelling had spread out to the far corners of the room, pressing themselves against the walls. It was never a good thing when the sentries showed up. 

The robots looked around the room, searching for something. Their red laser eyes scanned the assembly of aliens, only stopping once Matt was bathed in an eerie crimson light.

"Prisoner 113-1698, get up." the loud, metallic automated voices of each sentry broke the room's silence, echoing on the walls like thunder.

Shiro glared at them, wishing that looks could kill, as Matt began to pull away from him. Feeling Matt's warmth leave his body, he pulled his friend back to him by the hem of his shirt. 

Matt slumped back against him, pressing his face into his neck. Shiro knew that he had to let him go, for both of their sakes, but that didn't make this any easier. 

"Please come back to me." Shiro whispered quietly into Matt's ear, low enough so that only he would be able to hear it.

"I'll try." Matt whispered back, as he always did whenever this happened. 

Pulling away quickly, he let the sentries take him away. Matt looked over his shoulder, and gave Shiro a halfhearted smile before being pushed out the door.

Shiro watched him go, feeling as if someone had stabbed him and left the knife in. He knew that Matt couldn't promise his safety, because of what the Druids did to him every day. If he did, it would be a lie. But it still hurt, watching him leave and not being able to know if he would come back. 

He hated not being able to do anything about it. He'd tried, and failed, before, and he knew it would be futile to try again. It was far too dangerous to rebel against the Galra, when he didn't truly know who he was up against. He also didn't want his actions to come back to Matt; he wouldn't be able to live with himself if the Druids damaged Matt beyond repair due to his recklessness.

  


* * *

  


In the beginning, after the night when Matt had first been brought into the cell, battered and bleeding, hardly conscious, Shiro had vowed to protect him. His anger burned like a raging fire in his heart, and he felt as if he could fight off an army if it would keep him safe. And nothing, no matter how powerful, would be able to stop him. 

When the sentries had come to retrieve Matt, he'd been ready. 

The second that door slid open, he had thrust Matt behind him so that he couldn't interfere. He had marched up to the sentries, fists raised, prepared for a fight. 

There were two of them, both of which tried to push Shiro away so that they could reach Matt. They brandished large, outlandish blades in their metal gauntlets, and used them to deter his movements. 

Seeing the weapons, and being weaponless himself, Shiro knew that he wouldn't last long unless he improvised. Since the cell was empty, all except for the aliens, and there were no fraying pieces of metal on the walls, he had had no other choice but to steal from the sentries.

Quick as a striking cobra, he grabbed one of the sentries by the wrist and yanked the sword from its hand. The weapon was surprisingly light, and it was easy for him to adjust his grip on its handle for easier movement. He'd never been taught how to properly use a sword before, due to all of Earth's technologically advanced weaponry, but it didn't seem too complicated to figure out. He had known that he had to try, at least. 

Noticing that their prisoner had an advantage he shouldn't have, both sentries completely forgot about their original target and focused on him instead. 

Good. That's exactly what he wanted.

Ignoring Matt's cries of protest, Shiro then swung the weapon into the hand of the only armed sentry. Metal met metal with a loud CLANG! and the sentry's hand fell to the floor, the sword clutched tight in its grip. 

Keeping his eyes on the enemy, Shiro kicked the blade towards Matt. If he lost this battle, he had wanted Matt to be able to protect himself. 

All of the other prisoners watched in horror as Shiro destroyed the sentry in front of him. He sliced into it over and over again until it was completely useless, then let its mutilated body fall into a mess of metal and tangled wires. 

One down, one more to go. 

He turned around to fight the second sentry, only to freeze with the sword in his hand, poised to attack. 

The sword he'd kicked to Matt for protection was now around his friend's neck, the sentry at Matt's back preventing him from moving. There was no easy way out of this one. 

But before Shiro could even say a word, the sentry spoke. 

"Drop your weapon, or he dies." it emphasized its point by pressing the blade into the soft skin of Matt's neck.

Shiro's heart sank to his stomach. Staring into Matt's wide, terrified eyes, he weighed his options. He could either attempt to disarm the sentry and free his friend, or he could drop his sword and allow the sentry to take him away so that the Druids could experiment on him. 

As he saw it, attacking the sentry was his only option. But on the logical side, he knew that he wasn't very good with a sword, and he highly doubted that he'd be fast enough to make his move. 

His grasp on the sword's handle loosened, and he let it fall. If he had chosen to attack, there was a high possibility that he could fail and that the sentry would slit Matt's throat before he could get to him. He couldn't let that happen, and at least if he was taken to the Druids he had a chance of surviving. 

He watched as the lone sentry dragged Matt out of the door, and once they were gone the room was plunged into an unsettling silence. 

Feeling as if his heart had been torn out of his chest, leaving a painful, gaping black hole behind, Shiro settled in a dark corner of the cell, anxiously awaiting Matt's return. 

Hours later, Matt showed back up at the cell, wearing a shredded purple shirt and bearing fresh wounds along his arms and neck. 

Shiro was on his feet the second he saw him in the doorway, pulling the smaller man into a gentle embrace. Matt weakly returned the hug, wrapping his arms around Shiro's waist, pressing his face into his chest. 

It was in that moment that Shiro realized how important Matt was to him. Not that he hadn't known it before, just a few days ago, so he thought, when he'd seen what the Druids had done to him in his absence. But it came back now with a vengeance, as if making the difficult choice of giving Matt up to the Druids had changed his perspective. It probably had; he was really starting to feel the weight of this situation. 

He realized how much he truly cared for his friend. Since Sam had disappeared without a trace after their abduction, Matt was all he had left. 

In the time that they'd shared the cell together, along with the other prisoners, the duo had begun to grow closer. They became more than just friends, bonded by their shared trauma. For Shiro, Matt was more than his nerdy, memelord friend and teammate. He'd become the one thing that kept him sane, kept him grounded, preventing the ground from falling beneath his feet. There was no way for him to describe what he was feeling, but he guessed that there was no way for it to be expressed in words. Not that it mattered, because all he needed to know was that keeping Matt safe, and at the very least, alive, was his top priority. 

He'd learned the hard way that fighting the Galra to protect him was futile. So he decided that he would do the next best thing: recount some of his best memories of the Garrison. While they weren't bandages or painkillers, he knew that the stories helped Matt cope with the experiments that the Druids put him through every day. 

Matt never did talk about them, and Shiro had stopped asking. He understood that for Matt, talking about he'd survived would be like living it all over again. 

Instead, he wanted to help him push the thoughts he most likely had of the experiments to the back of his mind, at least for a little while. 

But the times that he was allowed to spend with Matt were few and far between. While Matt was being experimented on, he was stuck in the cell, waiting for him to return. It was nerve-wracking, being left alone with his thoughts, where he could only wonder what was being done to his friend. 

In order to keep himself from going insane, Shiro had begun to attempt conversation with the other prisoners. Since the aliens who had captured him were capable of speaking fluent English, he wouldn't be surprised if other alien races could do the same. 

What he discovered surprised him. 

After a few failed attempts, one of the aliens responded to him. Shiro had asked the alien questions, wondering where he was, who had captured them, and most importantly, how they could speak this language. 

The alien, who had introduced himself as Xi, was able to answer all of his questions. He explained that they were being held hostage on a Galran prison ship, that their captors were the purple-skinned aliens called the Galra, and that their knowledge of all tongues from all over the universe was gained by the Druid's magic. The Druids, he learned later, were the cosmic witches responsible for Matt's torture. He was glad for this information, because now he could put a name to the wretched creatures causing his friend so much pain. 

Xi also introduced him to the other aliens, since he wasn't as shy as they were of newcomers. 

Gar was the largest of them all, a well-muscled reptilian alien with various horns atop his head. He tended to be very soft-spoken, and only talked rarely, if ever.

Xi himself was a pale blue fishlike humanoid alien, and though he appeared skinny and weak it was obvious that he was the makeshift leader of the group.

Ti-or was a long, almost noodle-like orange creature that seemed to be a cross between a ferret, owl, octopus, and possibly goat because of their sideways pupils. They were mute, and Xi had explained that they didn't have any necessary assigned gender, so only they/them pronouns were used. Being an anomaly among their kind, Ti-or had been stolen by the Druids for experimentation. Shiro had remembered watching the sentries take them away every once in a while, though none of their injuries were anywhere near as serious as Matt's. The internal trauma they faced, however, was painfully blatant in their eyes. Just like Matt, experimentation had taken its toll on them.

Queto looked like a cross between a giant amoeba and a cyclops, with a single, bulbous red eye in the center of his face. And then there was Keno, a frog-like alien with royal blue skin and watery eyes situated on top of her head. 

Xi explained that he'd picked up English from the Galra, since they tended to speak in various alien tongues for the fun of it. He had also been imprisoned far longer than the others, so with time, he hard learned how to communicate fluently in a few languages from planets across the universe. 

He'd also spent his time in the cell educating the others about what he learned, ensuring that the sentries weren't patrolling when he did for fear of being caught. He had told him that knowing these languages could be necessary for survival, if they ever escaped this place. Each alien had clung to his every word as if they were lifelines, and soon they could all speak the languages he taught as well as the tongue of their home planets. 

Over time Shiro learned about them all, once they had come out of their shells. They talked about what life had been like on their home planets, explaining exotic customs and sharing stories of their families. They talked of better days, of times long past. 

When they spoke, they smiled, the misery of being stuck in a cell fading like morning dew in the sunlight. They would get excited, talking about happy memories of what they remembered before the Galra came to their planets. 

And in the dark cell, surrounded by the metallic footsteps of pacing sentries, just waiting for a prisoner to step out of line, they made the darkness seem a little brighter.

Shiro learned more about aliens-sentient aliens, to be exact- within a prison than he'd ever learned in a lab, reading astronaut memoirs and looking at probe images of planets or studying samples of celestial terrain. He learned their life stories, how they survived on their planets, what it was like to live on a planet without oxygen, their unique cultures...the list went on. It was almost like talking to a person, and it gave him a newfound respect for alien life. In no way were they human, but talking to him, getting to know them, told him that they weren't as different from humanity as he'd originally thought. 

When he had signed up for the Kerberos Mission, he had been planning to collect ice samples and possibly study alien microbial life. He'd gotten more than he'd ever bargained for, when he was captured and imprisoned by the very thing he wanted to study. As a matter of fact, the roles had been reversed on him, and not in a good way. 

But knowing what he did now, it was almost worth it. He had regretted the Kerberos Mission at first, wishing that he'd listened to Adam and stayed on Earth. Though if he had stayed, he wouldn't have ever gotten in this situation. Humanity would still be in the dark on the prospect of alien life, and it could be many years before another huge mission was launched. 

If he ever returned home, he would tell them. He would explain that there was intelligent life spread out across the universe, and that while there was evil, there was also good. Maybe he could convince the Galaxy Garrison's engineers to create an intergalactic battleship that could be used to fight the Galra empire. 

From what these aliens had told him, the Galra were decimating planets and taking prisoners to do their dirty work. No one was safe, and apparently their tyrannical empire had existed longer than life on Earth. If they kept doing what they did now, in a couple thousand years there would be nothing left of the universe save for the debris of pulverized planet matter. 

It had to be stopped. Once he escaped this place, and he _would_ escape, along with Matt, and possibly the other prisoners, they would return to Earth. They would build an army, allying with the planets that remained free, to fight for the liberation of all beings. It was a fantastical idea, but it was one he was willing to fight for. Because if it worked, it would be worth it in the end. 

  


* * *

  


A couple of hours later, the sentries returned Matt. He had dark bags under his hazel eyes, which looked almost black in the dim light. Surprisingly, he was in better shape than he'd been in a long time, with only a couple of bruises along his arms. Nevertheless, he was still extremely tired, and fell asleep in Shiro's arms.

While Matt slept, Shiro kept watch. The sentries patrolled the halls constantly, and Shiro was keen at listening for their metal footsteps. He had begun to memorize the intervals in which he could hear them passing by the cell. He knew that this information would be useful someday.

A few hours later, after Matt awoke, a single sentry arrived at the cell. Shiro was undeterred, because he knew that it wasn't here for Matt. Whenever the Galra wanted a prisoner taken away, they always sent two or more sentries. 

So this one was here for another reason, one that he didn't quite know yet. 

It commanded all of the aliens to their feet, and Shiro helped Matt to stand. Walking behind the group, the sentry led all of them out into the hallway. 

The robot stood behind them; a subtle way of showing them that there was no going back.

They were soon joined by another sentry, which had shown up along with the first one but had waited out in the hallway and joined the group once the cell was cleared. It walked to the front of the assembly, leading them to who-knows-where.

It led them through a couple identical hallways, though it was actually hard to tell if they'd passed through multiple different passages or if they kept going through the same one over and over again, because they all looked the same. 

_"Beep beep!"_ Matt heard a high pitched beeping sound, coming from somewhere above his head. He looked up, and saw a little rectangular-prism shaped drone floating there. It looked like a floating pyramid with a glowing camera eye, with various purple circuit lines running through it. 

Technology had always been fascinating to him, alien tech even more so. He stopped where he was to stare at the little floating pyramid that seemed to defy the laws of physics, before he was roughly pushed from behind. He turned around to see that there was a sentry putting its metal hand on his back, urging him to move forward.

He did, shooting the drone one more glance before continuing on. 

Finally, after walking for what felt like forever, the sentries and the prisoners stopped in front of a large doorway. 

The sentries guided them through it, and Matt saw where they were-a cafeteria.

At one side of the cafeteria, there were a couple of prisoners sitting at tables, all eating a substance that looked suspiciously like liquefied cardboard. On the other, there was a Galra that looked like a fluffy, overweight purple cat that was serving the brown goo to prisoners that were all lined up by the counter in front of it.

Matt looked at the prisoners at the tables, searching for his dad. He was sure that he was here somewhere.

But while he saw various alien species, his father wasn't among them. Disappointed, Matt looked away from them and slowly started to walk forward, towards the fat purple cat thing. His hopes had been crushed. If his father wasn't here, he could be anywhere. It would be next to impossible to find him.

"We'll find him, Matt." he heard Shiro's voice behind him, as if he had read his thoughts. Matt turned around to face him.

"Yeah, we will." he said, though he didn't feel very convinced. He knew that Shiro was only trying to comfort him.

Both of them, along with the other aliens, were pushed forward toward the purple cat's counter, lining up single file as the cat handed out bowls of the brown stuff with some kind of utensil stuck inside of it.

Matt went to get some brown stuff, taking a bowl from the fat purple cat. 

It smelled odd. It had the appearance of cardboard that had been ground into mush, but it smelled like spicy glue. The scent was bland, but also oddly pungent, which made it smell like glue that had added spices.

After Shiro was served, Matt followed him as he walked off to get a table. Before they sat down, he said, "Shiro, these aliens are definitely trying to kill us."

"Yeah, I can see that." Shiro responded nonchalantly, wondering what Matt was getting at.

"No, no Takashi I'm serious. Those 'Druids' tried to electrocute me to death, for one, and now-" Matt cringed when he looked at the stuff in his bowl "-we're about to die of food poisoning. This stuff smells like spicy glue."

Shiro, who had already started eating some of the goo, almost spit it out at Matt's statement. But he forced himself to swallow before commenting.

"Spicy glue? Where did you get that from?" he inquired, starting to question Matt's sanity. How the heck would he know what spicy glue, whatever that was, tasted like?

"Well, it kinda smells like glue, but-" Matt scrambled for the right words, "-like with spices in it or something." he looked Shiro, who was almost done eating the strange substance. "How are you able to eat that?!"

Shiro answered, "It tastes worse than the Garrison's hamburgers, but I'm pretty sure that this is all we're going to get to eat for a while. Besides, it's been a while since we've eaten, and at this point I'll eat anything that's given to me. You know, you should eat too. It might be a while before you get the chance to eat again."

Matt's eyes widened. "WHAT. You're not serious! _Nothing_ is worse than the Garrison's hamburgers! Why do you think I don't want to eat this stuff? I was poisoned by my professor once, eating one of those- _foods that should not be named_ -but now, I've been given "food"," he made air quotes with his fingers, "by hostile aliens!"

"Just eat it, Matt. You'll be fine. Maybe." Shiro tried to convince him.

"Okay..."Matt said reluctantly, starting to feel his hunger return like a rabid beast, clawing at his insides. The last thing he'd eaten had been a packet of freeze-dried peas aboard the Persephone, the ship they'd taken to Kerberos. It had been a while since then, and Shiro was probably right. Scooping up some of the stuff on the utensil, which looked like a weaponized spork, he put some it in his mouth. 

He regretted it instantly.

It stuck to the roof of his mouth, and it tasted like weird spices, burnt popcorn, and rotten potatoes combined. 

"Matt? You okay?" Shiro watched Matt struggle to eat the goo, trying not to laugh.

"-s nod bunny!" Matt said to Shiro, trying to talk around the goo, looking like a dog struggling to eat peanut butter.

Eventually, he finished eating the noxious goo, while Shiro had tried helplessly to keep himself from laughing the entire time.

"That was painful. And Shiro, I thought we were friends, but I'm not sure anymore. You should have been helping me, not watching me struggle!" Matt exclaimed, pretending to be mad.

It didn't last, and soon Matt was laughing along with Shiro. This experience oddly reminded him of the time when both of them had gotten food poisoning from eating rotten potatoes (hence why Matt knew what those tasted like), and having to skip class for a week. It had been funny after the fact, because neither one of them had been able to function properly and, according to his sister Katie, also known as Pidge, Matt had acted like he was on drugs because the medicine he had to take had more of an effect on him than Shiro.

Being the sneaky little sister she was, Pidge had filmed all of the crazy things he'd said while on the medication and sent it to Shiro. When he eventually found out about it, it was already too late. Matt had been mad at his sister for it at first, but he couldn't deny that the video was hilarious and it was still brought up from time to time, when Pidge felt the need to troll her brother. 

Thinking about that disaster almost made him enjoy the horrible prison food more. He shared his thoughts with Shiro, explaining his comparison. 

When he finished, Shiro ended up agreeing with him. Both of them laughed about it, and Matt mentioned a couple more instances of his sister pulling pranks on him. Some of the worst were the ones that she'd gotten their father in on, which Matt hadn't figured out until he caught the two of them in action and had exacted his revenge. 

The sentry returned to retrieve them all too soon, and they were led back to their cell.

Matt's positive mood began to fade once the dim purple lights of the halls shone on him again. He listened to the rhythmic thudding of his own footsteps as he walked, trying to stay as quiet as possible with a sentry walking at his back. 

He let his thoughts wander, feeling more positive than he had in a while. The Druids had gone easy on him for the past few days or so, and he'd finally gotten to eat after being deprived of any kind of nutrition for so long. Even though the food had been far less than satisfactory, it was something. 

His life had been a literal hell ever since he'd arrived on this prison ship. But now, it was starting to get better. He could only hope that it would last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! And happy new years!


	5. Chapter 5

"Take him back to his cell. We're done with him."

Matt lay limp against the cool metal operating table he was strapped to, his breathing weak and ragged. He was tired, exhausted beyond compare in a way that he couldn't describe. The dull ache in his arms from countless, blotchy bruises where thick, violet-tinted catheters had been inserted only minutes before had numbed his arms, a piercing migraine a sharp needle in his brain from the mental strain of the torture he had endured.

_They don't need me anymore._

His pain and fatigue addled brain were making comprehension difficult, but he knew he had heard the Druid's words clearly. He couldn't believe it; this was exactly what he'd been waiting for, ever since the Druids began experimenting on him. 

He'd lost hope that it would ever happen a long time ago, as days, weeks, even months passed without an end in sight. He had begun to accept the fact that he was likely going to die from everything that the Druids forced him through, so the fact that he wasn't dreaming all of this was unbelievable. 

But even though it had to be impossible that this was happening, he desperately hoped that this was real, and not another dream. He didn't know how much longer he could take it, dreaming of being free of the Druids only to find himself back on the same old bloodstained table, day after day. 

He could feel the restraints clasped tight around his body begin to loosen, and he watched the sentry whom had been standing in the doorway for the past few minutes walking towards him. He waited for the sentry to come towards him to grab his arm, and to watch as the metal of the sentry's hand went straight through his incorporeal arm, or to watch as he was gripped by what would be bruising strength, and feel nothing at all. 

Once the sentry reached him, it yanked him off of the table by the collar of his shirt, flinging him onto the ground. Thrusting his legs out in front of him to break his fall, Matt tried to catch himself, and unprepared as he was, it caused his feet to hit the ground at an odd angle. A flash of pain shot up his legs upon impact, his legs buckling beneath him, and he winced as he hit the ground, catching himself with his hands. His legs were weaker than he'd expected them to be, and he gritted his teeth together while he stood back up, stumbling to find his footing. 

His unsteady legs were shaking and wobbling beneath him, painfully stiff and numb from prolonged disuse. He reached to grab the edge of the table for balance, and had almost touched it when his legs gave out from under him. 

Matt watched helplessly as the cold, hard floor rushed up to meet him, but was stopped by something clasping his arm before he could hit the ground. It pulled him back up to his feet, and Matt didn't even have to look to know that it had been the sentry who had saved him. He was actually glad that it had grabbed him for once, knowing that he probably wouldn't have been able to catch himself this time. As he regained his footing, slowly standing back up, the sentry maintained a firm hold on his arm. 

Once Matt was standing, the sentry turned to focus its unseeing magenta gaze on the small group of Druids across from them, as if it had something to say. A couple minutes dragged out in silence, neither alien saying a word. Matt looked between the Druids and the sentry, wondering if they were communicating telepathically. This was an advanced alien race; he wouldn't put it past them. 

Eventually, after what had felt like an eternity, the sentry turned its back to the Druids and walked out the doorway, dragging Matt along behind it. Matt had no idea what had transpired between them, and he decided it was best that he never find out.

He was slightly dazed as he stumbled out into the hallway, still in shock by the Druid's proclamation. This was something he'd wanted for so long now, something he never thought he would ever have, like a child receiving an expensive present on Christmas or a teenager getting their first car, only this was thousands of times better. 

He knew that Shiro had wanted this for him, too. He'd never said anything aloud, but it was obvious in the deep, underlying pain in his eyes, the wrinkles and dark bags that lay beneath them, making him look far older than he actually was. Shiro often stayed awake to talk to him, he obviously never got any sleep when he was away, and all of it had definitely taken its toll on his friend, more than he was likely to admit.

Matt knew that this would change everything. It wasn't freedom, exactly, but even if this was the closest he ever got to breaking the Galran chains that bound him, it would be enough. He had Shiro, at least. Even if he was destined to suffer here for the rest of his life, however long that may be, he'd still have Shiro. They would get through this together, just like they always did. 

Now, standing at the door of his cell, nervously chewing on his lip, Matt anxiously awaited for it to be opened. He couldn't wait to tell Shiro about his release, but he had no idea how he would react to his news. If this had been the Garrison, Shiro would have been excited for him, and they likely would have found some way to celebrate. 

But this wasn't the Garrison, and with so many incomprehensible threats surrounding them in this new, volatile alien environment, his reaction was unpredictable. Both of them had changed since their abduction, and Shiro was undoubtedly far more guarded than he'd ever been before.

So when the metal whir of the door sliding back, scraping loudly against the floor, announcing his presence, Matt stood back and waited. Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he rolled his shoulders to relax his tense muscles as he watched a dark shadow figure stand from the far wall of the cell. 

The figure began to walk towards him, and Matt recognized it as Shiro, illuminated by the bright violet lights on either side of the cell. 

He felt something sticky and warm trickling down his face, and impetuously reached up with his free hand to wipe it away. He hadn't noticed it before, but now that he felt it an intense, aching pain following it, coming from above his left eye. Bringing his arm back down, be looked at his sleeve and found the cuff dyed crimson from his blood. 

This was nothing new or surprising, and Matt nonchalantly dropped his arm back to his side as the sentry released his other arm and pushed him forcefully into the cell.

 _So much for being helpful,_ he thought, as the sentry walked out.

He didn't realize how much he'd been relying on the sentry for support until now. For approximately the third time in at least ten minutes, he found that he was rapidly approaching the ground, going down face-first. 

Something grabbed at his shirt from behind, gripping him tight and pulling him up from his current position, only centimeters from the floor. Matt didn't even have to look to know that it was Shiro. 

"Whoa, Matt, you okay?" The voice confirmed his suspicions, and Matt let Shiro pull him up, slinging an arm around Matt's shoulder to support him. Practically dragging his feet, Matt let Shiro walk him to the other side the cell, where he slumped against the wall as his legs gave out beneath him. 

The world had started to spin, and he could feel sweat soaking his shirt even from the slight exertion of being forced to walk. Covering his eyes with a hand, Matt let everything go black before daring to look back up, waiting for the dizziness to subside before answering Shiro's question. 

Taking a couple deep breaths and forcing a smile onto his face, Matt whispered somewhat sarcastically "I'm better than okay, actually. As a matter of fact, I'm doing awesome. How about you?" he joked, trying to lighten the mood. But when he pulled his hand away from his face, letting his eyes readjust, he saw that Shiro had found his statement anything but amusing. 

He hadn't said anything, but his eyes told Matt everything that he needed to know. There was a storm brewing in his gunmetal irises, all of his concealed pain breaking through the barrier like white-hot lightning flashes. No wonder people said that eyes were the windows to the soul.

"Matt-" the strain in Shiro's voice was blatantly obvious, and Matt could tell that it was costing him all of his willpower to keep his voice from faltering. "You nearly passed out on the ground, and you look like-"

"A zombie who just dragged his dying corpse out of hell? Yeah I know, Shiro." Matt wheezed, trying to sound sincere.

Shiro didn't have the heart to respond to Matt's witty remark. He looked away from his dulled amber eyes, clouded with the pain he was terrible at hiding, and instead focused his gaze on all of Matt's exposed wounds. 

His friend looked like a giant bruise, his skin purple and blue instead of a normal pale cream, and the purple and blue was riddled with holes, every single inch of skin where the Druids had jabbed needles inside of him. A stark contrast to Matt's abnormal skin color was the bright red of his blood, oozing out of fresh wounds. He looked like a mess. 

Matt felt a little too exposed, having Shiro look over his body like that. He seemed to be in pain himself every time his eyes lingered a little too long on his injuries, testaments to what he'd endured under the Druid's claws. 

This wasn't what he'd wanted to happen. He had planned on telling Shiro about what he'd heard from the Druid, not having him fuss over his wounds like a doctor. He was perfectly fine, he'd been through far worse before. 

But now was just as good a time as ever for him to tell him. 

"Hey, Shiro, I wasn't joking before when I said I was doing great. I really am." He let as much sincerity as possible leak into his words, and a small, genuine smile formed on his lips. 

Shiro turned away from a particularly bad burn he'd been assessing on one of Matt's wrists, and raised a questioning eyebrow in disbelief. He lifted his gaze to meet Matt's wordlessly, and Matt took that as his cue to continue speaking. 

"I-I know I look like I survived a natural disaster, I'll admit it." he decided to start by kicking out the elephant in the room. If his pain was anything to judge by, he probably looked wretched. Shiro wouldn't have been staring at him as if he was seeing a ghost if his appearance was anything close to normal. 

"Barely." Shiro spoke, his face stoic save for the emotion swirling within the depths of his eyes. Matt could tell that it was a weak attempt at a joke, or at least he hoped it was. To be honest, it had sounded more like an accusation than anything. 

Trying to avoid Shiro's comment, he continued, "But it's not about that. I just wanted to let you know that this is the last time you're ever going to see me like this." 

Shiro's eyes widened, and as Matt repeated his own words in his head, he realized what Shiro had thought he'd heard. 

"No, no, no, no they're not going to kill me. I swear, if they had wanted to do that it would have happened a long time ago. That didn't come out the way I wanted it to. What I meant to say was that they set me free. They don't need me anymore, so this is the last time that I'm ever gonna look like this." Matt explained, gesturing to himself. 

The fear in Shiro's eyes began to fade, and he relaxed slightly. But only slightly. The disbelief remained, however he seemed more curious than anything. 

"What?" 

Well, that wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. 

"The Druids are done with me. They don't need me for their experiments anymore." He paused, waiting for his answer to sink in. 

Shiro stared at him curiously, before his eyes widened in understanding. He slipped his arm off of Matt's shoulder, walking around him to talk face to face. 

"What?" he said again for at least the second time, his voice cracking with emotion. 

"I'm free." Matt breathed, his pain beginning to dull. He seemed to have rendered Shiro speechless, for once, and it wasn't in a bad way. 

For once in a very long time, he actually felt something akin to happiness. 

As he overcame his initial shock, Shiro smiled. Matt was smiling back at him, and he seemed far happier than he'd been in a long time, and it was contagious. 

A small voice whispered to Shiro in the back of his mind that this was far too good to be true, but he ignored it. He wasn't going to deny the nature of this situation, but in that moment his friend's happiness was the only thing that truly mattered. 

"It's about time."

Matt didn't have anything to say in response, so he continued to smile tiredly. He was barely clinging to consciousness, and the sense of contentment he now felt, the anxiety and fear triggered by thoughts of the Druids pushed aside, made him feel as if he could fall asleep right then and there. 

He would have, too, if Shiro hadn't spoken before he began drifting off. 

"You get some sleep. I'll keep watch."

The words reminded him of how little sleep Shiro had gotten while on the prison ship, and reluctantly forced his eyes back open. He wasn't going to let him do this to himself. 

"No, I'm fine, really. You're the one who needs sleep the most out of the two of us."

Shiro turned to glance at Matt over his shoulder, giving him a 'don't worry about me, go back to sleep' look. 

Matt ignored it. 

"I'm serious, Takashi. I can't believe you forgot about our agreement." Matt exclaimed sarcastically, attempting to feign disappointment. 

Now Shiro stared at him with pure confusion, glaring at him as if he'd spoken through a second head that had spontaneously appeared on his shoulders. 

"Agreement? What agreement?" Shiro asked, completely dumbfounded. He and Matt had never made any type of agreement, and he was starting to wonder if the Druid's experiments had caused serious psychological damage to Matt's brain. 

"You really don't remember?"

"No..."

"Well, we agreed that once the Druids set me free, you would actually let yourself get some sleep." Matt explained, trying to keep his voice steady so that Shiro couldn't see through his obvious lie. 

"What? I never agreed to that, Matt." 

Matt sighed. It had been worth a try. "Okay, maybe not, but you seriously do need to sleep, Shiro. I'm tired, but I'll be fine in a couple of days. It's not like I'm going to be going anywhere, anyway."

Shiro seemed to hesitate, but it only lasted for a couple of seconds. "What if I say no? You going to try and stop me?" he challenged, expecting Matt to surrender. This wouldn't be a battle worth fighting. 

A wicked smile formed on Matt's face, and he braced his hand on the wall to support himself as he stood up. He walked to stand beside Shiro, towering over his sitting form by a couple of feet. 

Staring up at Matt questioningly, it was then that Shiro remembered underestimating his friend's ambition had been a mistake before, and now was definitely not going to be an exception. Even battered and bruised, and obviously worn out, he still had the audacity to face up to his challenge. 

Typical Matt.

"Well?" Shiro inquired, expecting Matt to do something. 

Matt ignored him, stepping over his legs before proceeding to sit on top of him. He pressed himself up against his chest, adjusting his position so that his head was beneath Shiro's chin.

"This." Matt declared triumphantly, responding to Shiro's first question. 

Shiro scoffed, knowing that he should have expected Matt to do something like this. Not having the heart to push him off, he pulled his friend closer. He was surprised to find that Matt was very warm in contrast to the ice cold atmosphere of the room(he hoped it wasn't because of a fever), and suddenly he really didn't want to let that go. 

"Comfortable?" he inquired, feeling Matt shift beneath him. 

"Mm-hm." Matt mumbled, wrapping his arms loosely around Shiro's back. 

It only took a few seconds for Matt's breaths to slow down and become shallow, telling Shiro that he'd already fallen asleep. 

Letting a small smile creep onto his face, Shiro leaned back into the wall, bringing Matt with him. He stared in the direction of the door, listening to the metallic clanking of the sentries' footsteps as they walked by, memorizing their rhythm. 

About five minutes had passed when Shiro's eyelids began to grow heavy, and for once in a long time, he let them fall closed. Maybe Matt had been right after all. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

"How many times a day do they patrol? And how can you be positive that we can pull all of this off and succeed?" Matt asked Shiro, for about the second time in a span of five minutes. 

While Matt was being tortured by the Druids, Shiro had put himself to work. He knew that if he ever wanted to get out of here alive, to find Commander Holt and return to Earth, he needed a functional escape plan. But he also knew that he couldn't do it alone, so with the help of his cellmates, he created the blueprint for a complex, meticulously laid-out plan of escape. By the time they finished it, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that almost everything would go according to plan. 

Almost, because having a statistically acceptable margin of error for an untested hypothesis was the only way to know how high the probability of failure would be. Shiro only remembered that because it was something that Matt had taught him back at the Garrison, and he'd never hesitated to repeat it when he thought that Shiro needed the reminder. 

It had been approximately a week since Matt's release, and all of his injuries had faded considerably or they were nonexistent. Now, Shiro was explaining his escape plan to him, along with the other prisoners, and they were making last-minute adjustments to their plan before attack. 

"About three times in approximately the span of an entire day." Shiro answered, looking Matt in the eye, before turning to the aliens gathered around him, "Which is a varga in your terms. The sentries patrol three times, once at the dawn of the third sun, another in the middle of the varga, "and a third once we're all back in our cells after the second sun sets."

The Galra prison ship where they were imprisoned was currently orbiting an old, uninhabited ice planet, and they used the planet's three bright moons to tell time(Shiro called them suns despite the fact that they were moons because of their brightness). The first moon, I-3E7, was a pale blue and gave off an almost invisible, wispy white glow. The second moon, B-4G6, was a darker, richer blue than I-3E7, and it shone a vibrant cobalt when illuminated. The third moon, E-I0I, was a deep turquoise, almost black color, and when it shone fractured blue light was reflected across the planet's surface, like broken glass.

I-3E7 was nearly impossible to see, so it wasn't used for determining time. Only B-4G6 and E-I0I were clearly visible to the naked eye. Days were long on this planet, because the third moon, E-I0I, was the first to rise, and the second moon, B-4G6, was the last to set. 

"We'll be leaving after the dawn of the third sun. And I'm not completely positive that we can successfully go through with this plan flawlessly, because there's got to be a statistically acceptable margin of error, right?" Shiro finished, smirking at Matt. 

Matt furrowed his brows in confusion, but when Shiro's words seemed to fully sink in, his mouth fell open in surprise. He tried to find the right words to say in response, wondering how Shiro had even remembered that. But Shiro turned away before he could say anything, acting like nothing had ever happened.

Once this was all over, Matt knew that he'd get back at Shiro for that. He can't just say something like that and act like nothing ever happened. 

"Xi will lead the group." Shiro turned to the pale blue alien, who nodded his affirmation. "He's been here the longest, so he knows how to get around better than the rest of us do." It only made sense that the alien with the most experience lead, and the strongest out of all of them would be stationed at the front and the rest would bring up the rear. 

According to Xi, he'd been on the prison ship for so long that he knew practically everything about it. He explained the entire layout of the ship to the group of prisoners, picking up a discarded piece of broken metal pipe and scratching out a crude map on the cell floor. Using the sharpest edge of the pipe, he circled the most important areas of the ship, including the hangar where the escape pods were kept, the control room, and the cell corridors.

"Matt, you'll bring up the rear. We need you to sneak into the main control room of this ship," Shiro pointed out the control room on Xi's map, "and hack into its systems. All of this ship's core systems need to be shut down in order for our plan to work. Think you can do that?"

Matt nodded. "Of course I can do that, but I'm going to need someone to go with me. I highly doubt that I'm strong enough to fight off any Galra soldiers if I get caught." 

"I'll go with him." a deep, heavily-accented gravelly voice answered Matt. 

Turning around to find the voice's owner, Matt realized, to his surprise, that it had been Gar. He was a mute, almost dinosaur-like alien, and he'd never spoken before until now.

Despite the tension that had accumulated in the room from the weight of their current situation, everyone seemed to freeze, vengeful plans temporarily forgotten as they all turned to look at him in shock. Apparently, this was a first, even for the aliens whom had been imprisoned far longer than Shiro and Matt. 

The large reptilian alien met their stares equally with a neutral gaze of his own, as if this was completely normal and they should continue to carry out their plans. 

After staring for another thirty seconds, the alien assembly mutually decided that there were more pressing matters at hand than Gar's ability to speak, so they continued.

"I-yes, that works. Matt and Gar will go to the control room and hack the systems, and the rest of us will free the other prisoners. You've already talked with them, Xi?" Shiro quickly got back on track, focusing his attention on Xi. 

"Yes. They'll be ready for us once the systems are down." 

"Good. Matt and Gar, the two of you will meet us at the hangar where the escape pods are kept. Do you know where that is?"

Everyone turned to look at Gar expectantly for his response, but he only nodded in confirmation. Smart; judging by the shock caused by his verbal response from before, he probably knew that it was in his best interest to not say anything at all. 

Matt was glad that Gar knew where the hanger was, because he had absolutely no clue. Not that he would know anyway, because as one of the Druid's former subjects, they never would have let him have that knowledge for fear of having him escape.

Well, he thought to himself, they can't stop me now. 

He couldn't suppress the smirk that crept onto his face at the thought. For so long, he'd been trapped at their mercy. Now, there was nothing holding him back. 

But he didn't have his freedom yet. That was just something he'd have to fight for.

If Shiro's plan succeeded, than it would be well worth the blood he was likely going to lose over it. 

"Okay. Does anyone else have anything to add?" Shiro asked, his voice clipped. Judging by his tense demeanor and taut muscles, he was more than ready to launch his rebellion. But since he was working with rag-tag team of alien prisoners of whom he'd only known for a couple of weeks, he didn't want to begin until he had their confirmation. 

Simultaneously, the entire group nodded their heads in silent agreement. All of them were more than ready to fight, the fear that the Galra had instilled within them diminishing at the hope they now held within them, the prospect of freedom closer than it had ever been before.

Matt himself could feel the adrenaline fizzing in his veins, pumping through his blood and making him feel as if he could fight off an entire army by himself. The time had finally come for him to exact vengeance on his captors, and though he was terrified, he also felt as if he'd been ready for this his entire life. 

"Let's go." Shiro's voice was hushed and quiet, likely so as not to attract any unwanted eavesdroppers. He had suppressed his excitement well, masking it with his determination. 

Waving a hand, he silently motioned for them all to move forward. Together they clustered around the door, waiting for the telltale sentry footsteps coming down the hall to indicate that the first patrol of the varga had begun. 

That was when they would strike. 

 

Seconds passed, then minutes. 

The air was heavy with the sound of labored breathing, and it stank of sweat. All of the prisoners were tense, their muscles taut with anticipation and a readiness to strike, like cats waiting to pounce on their next meal. 

They hadn't yet heard the sound of the sentries' footsteps, and according to Shiro's knowledge, they should have heard them a long time ago. It had set everyone on edge, because it most likely meant that something had gone wrong, and their plan wouldn't be executed as expected. 

In a severe, hushed voice, one of the aliens whispered, "What do we do now? If the sentries show up, should we try to escape? Or should we wait until next movement?"

No one answered immediately, meaning that either no one else had heard, or they were choosing to ignore it. Matt couldn't blame them; he was scared too, and he had heard the slight stutter in the alien's voice telling him that they had been trying to mask their terror. They couldn't let fear overrule their minds now, with their freedom on the line.

Matt bit his lip, hard. He had no idea who the speaker was, he'd been listening too intently for the telltale clank of metal on metal that would tell him that a sentry patrol was coming their way, to discern who the voice belonged to. But their words still made him uneasy. Everyone was desperate to escape, him included, and that desperation had obviously clouded his judgement. 

The adrenaline high he'd felt after their plans were finalized had begun to die down, the passing time heightening his anxiety. The fear that Matt had been trying hard to force away slowly began to creep back into his mind, and soon the sound of his pounding heart drowned out the ragged breathing of the other prisoners. 

It was so loud, like the raucous banging of a drum, that he almost didn't hear the metallic sounds of robotic footsteps coming their way.

Almost.

Before he could say a word, someone whispered, "Is that...?"

"Yes." Shiro answered urgently, looking ready to bolt out the door the second it was opened. 

The rest of the group soon mirrored his posture, fists clenched at their sides, all eyes focused intently on the door. 

All were silent at the sound of the door opening, a metallic whirring that sounded uncharacteristically loud in the midst of utter silence. It sounded like a loud scrape, as if a long sword was being dragged across the metal ground. 

When the door had been pulled back all the way into the wall, Shiro slowly began to walk forward, so as not to rouse suspicion. The other prisoners followed in close pursuit, but they hadn't gotten very far when a sentry stopped Shiro with a gauntlet to his shoulder.

"You will be following us." it spoke, in its emotionless, robotic voice. 

The sentries' statement made Matt's blood run cold. It had been simple, only five words, but the way they had been stated told him that this was no request. They were going to be following the sentries, whether they liked it or not. 

Shiro visibly hesitated for a second, but he followed reluctantly behind the sentry as it began to lead the group out into the hallway. A second sentry came and backed up the rear, and with a loud scraping sound, both sentries had their swords out, blades facing towards the prisoners in silent warning. 

Matt didn't have to be a genius to know that if any of them tried to escape now, they would either be killed or gravely injured before they got very far. Those swords were no joke; their wicked blades glowed an ethereal violet at the edges, and if the light had been any darker he could almost imagine seeing blood dripping off of the blades' razor-sharp tips. 

An involuntary shiver made its way down Matt's spine, ice-cold and ominous. He had a distinct gut feeling that the sentries were leading them to their deaths, not the mess hall as per usual. 

He turned to look at Shiro, feeling the last shreds of hope he had left starting to dissipate. If Shiro could stay strong now, despite the fact that their plans had most likely been torn apart, then he could be strong too. They'd come too far to fail; he wasn't going to give up hope until he knew where exactly they were being taken. 

He didn't even have to wait very long. 

The group of prisoners was led straight past the mess hall, around a few corners, and through halls that grew dimmer and darker as they walked. Even though he dreaded to admit it, Matt now knew that he'd been right. 

Soon Matt could hear what he thought was the quiet, muffled sound of loud screaming. It caused chills to run down his spine, and he crossed his arms over his chest to create a semblance of comfort. Almost all thoughts of escape had left his mind, the new forefront of his focus the mysterious place that the sentries were leading them to. 

The screaming grew louder and louder, and soon the hallways filled with the sound, echoing off of the walls. But now, instead of hearing what he thought had to be the screaming of tortured prisoners, he heard the sound of cheering. It was as if they were going to be led into the middle of a sports game, and they were the athletes that the unseen fans were cheering for. 

Soon enough, Matt could see a dim, purple light emanating from far down the hallway. They headed towards it, and as they grew closer he could make out stands on either side of a large, circular room. 

When they finally stopped, the sentries led them into a small tunnel that was connected to the large room. It was just enough for all of them to fit in, squeezed together to make pathways on either side of them so that the sentries could walk forward. 

From a distance, Matt hadn't been able to discern how large the room actually was. Seeing it up this close though, he couldn't even see all of it because it was so colossal and expansive. Stands rose up from all sides of the room, filled with spectators of various alien species. In the center, there was a large sand-filled circle, almost bare save for a somewhat-concealed beige disc buried in the ground about a hundred meters away from Matt's current standpoint, and long, glowing violet spires that rose a couple hundred meters into the air.

The scene laid out before him reminded Matt of the Roman Empire, and the Colosseum where countless battles were staged for the citizens' entertainment. The stands, the sand pit in the center, the cheering spectators...it was almost exactly the same, despite this taking place a thousand years after the time of the Romans, and on an alien warship in the middle of outer space. 

Suddenly, the ground began to shake violently beneath his feet, and he looked around wildly to find the source, bracing his feet against the ground, trying to remain standing. He saw that the other prisoners were just as shaken as he was, disoriented and confused as they tried to keep themselves from falling. 

There, in the center of the arena, he saw the beige disc starting to rise up out of the ground. It was followed by a clear cylinder, supposedly made of glass, and the inside was covered in deep claw marks.

With each passing second, the cylinder rose higher and higher, and Matt backed up closer to his cellmates once he got a better view of its contents. There was a giant, humanoid-lizard type alien wearing thick purple armor encased in the cylinder, holding what looked like a weaponized torch. 

It was terrifying, much more dangerous than the lions and tigers that the Romans had to face.

The alien was banging on the inside of the cylinder, roaring as it did so, and Matt knew that it had to be made of something other than glass, or else it would have shattered a long time ago. This creature was fierce, and it was here to kill. 

Eventually the cylinder stopped moving, and everyone went silent except for the beast inside of it. Slowly, a hidden door on the cylinder pulled back, and the beast began jamming its claws through the opening, desperately trying to claw its way out. 

Time seemed to move faster than normal, and after what felt like only a couple of seconds, the beast was freed of its enclosure. It roared, flinging its torch around as if it was daring someone to challenge it. The beast's beady yellow eyes scanned everyone in the futuristic Colosseum, before looking directly behind it, staring down Matt and they other prisoners like a predator would regard prey. 

In the distance, Matt could hear an announcer shouting something in a foreign tongue, but he was too focused on keeping the beast in his sights, feeling the blood drain from his face as he realized exactly what was going on. 

This was exactly like the gladiator battles had gone in ancient Rome. A wild beast against a gladiator or an unlucky prisoner, a fight to the death. 

They were the prisoners. One of them was going to be chosen to fight that monstrosity, and it didn't take a genius to know who would win that battle. 

Matt fell forward as he was shoved hard from behind, and he could feel the pressure of a sentry's sword against his spine. He stumbled, looking up to find another sentry holding a sword to his face. 

It gestured to the beast in the arena with its sword once it had his attention, and Matt looked between the sword's edge and the beast, realizing with dread what the sentry's intent was. 

A prisoner had to be chosen to fight the beast. 

They had chosen him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! I know I haven't updated in a couple of months, but school's been taking up all of my time and I never got the chance to write. But I'm back now, and I'm going to try and update at least every two weeks.
> 
> Also, thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while since I last published a chapter, but school is officially out for summer so I should be able to write more! I've been trying to establish an actual writing schedule, which still hasn't happened yet because I love to procrastinate, so the next chapter should be out in the next few weeks, hopefully.

Pure, raw fear overcame Matt as the sentry pointedly stared him down, pressing the blade of its weapon into his chest to emphasize its point. They wanted him to fight, out of all of the prisoners they could have chosen from. 

Matt was terrified at the prospect of fighting, and it wasn't just that he knew he was weak-with absolutely no muscle in his body, copious amounts of scar tissue, and nothing but a sarcastic attitude to protect himself-or the knowledge that he would be laid open by that monsters' ball of energy in a matter of milliseconds, bleeding out on the floor of the arena...

It was that he knew he'd never see his family again. Shiro had told him that his father had been taken away to some kind of prison camp soon after they were abducted by the Galra, and he knew that his little sister and his mother were waiting for him to return to Earth. All of whom he'd never see again if he walked into battle.

Before he could even put his thoughts together, he realized that he'd been ranting for longer than a few minutes when he heard a voice behind him.

"You can do this."

Shiro--but Matt barely heard him. He was far too caught up in his own anxiety to hear anything save for the raging thoughts in his mind.

"I can't do this. I-I'll never see my family again!"

Matt's breathing grew ragged, adrenaline pumping fast and hard through his veins. This was something he knew he wasn't going to survive, whether he believed Shiro's false hopefulness or not.

Matt was caught off guard as he was thrust backwards, gripped by a strong hand and pushed forcefully away from the sentry, watching in a fearful haze as someone else took his place. He nearly brought the group of prisoners down with him as he fell, but he felt someone catch him before he could hit the ground. Quickly glancing upwards, he recognized the alien as Xi, who was apparently far stronger than he appeared. 

"This is my fight, I want blood!" a violent, aggressive yell pierced the air, drowning out the cheers of the Galran spectators in the arena. 

Matt turned his attention back towards the figure whom had saved his life, replacing him as the gladiator. He knew who it was the second he spoke. 

Shiro wielded the sentry's weapon now, and he whirled around to face Matt, his lips curled into a fierce snarl. The kind, supportive Shiro Matt had seen mere moments ago was gone, replaced by a vicious beast ready for the kill. 

Xi dropped him and retreated back, leaving Matt to his own devices. He barely even felt the impact when he fell, because Shiro was on him in seconds, forcing him hard into the ground and lifting the sentry's sword above his head. 

He brought the sword down in one fluid motion, effectively slicing through the skin right below Matt's knee. Matt screamed in pain, shocked and terrified that his closest friend would do such a thing to him, fearing that he'd snapped and was now dead-set on killing him. 

Clutching his knee with one arm, Matt supported himself with the other, prepared to jump to his feet if Shiro tried to attack him again. But, to his surprise, Shiro's face softened into an expression of guilt and sorrow.

"Take care of your father," he whispered, resignation on his face as he was gripped from behind by a sentry and hauled into the arena. The alien he was supposed to fight, Myzax, let out a loud challenging roar for the upcoming battle. 

Shiro turned to face it, the obvious tensing throughout his entire body showing how terrified he was, as much as he tried to hide it. Myzax charged, the orb in its mechanical torch glowing and sparking ominously.

Matt watched in breathless anticipation, at a loss for words after all that had occurred in the past few seconds. He'd been afraid of Shiro for a second, and now he feared for his safety. He had a horrible feeling that he was about to watch his best friend-who'd sacrificed himself for Matt's safety-die right in front of his eyes. 

Shiro stood still, watching as the enraged alien closed in on him, before turning around to stare Matt dead in the eye. He smiled half-heartedly, as if he knew that this would be the end for him too and he knew that Matt would survive without him. 

The sight wrenched Matt's heart in ways that he couldn't explain. He wanted to scream at Shiro, to stand up and fight despite his injured leg, but the words wouldn't come out, and he was frozen in place. 

Then Shiro turned back, hefting his own stolen weapon, charging towards his opponent. It was at that very second that Matt felt himself being gripped, hard, by something behind him. This was all it took for him to snap back to his senses, and he flung himself into whatever was holding him, lunging forward in desperation.

"NO!" he screamed, trying to run towards the entrance to the arena. He couldn't let Shiro do this to himself. It was like Matt hadn't realized how much Shiro had truly meant to him until now, when it was far too late to do anything about it. In his pain, fear-addled mind, he realized that his only option was to run in there and join Shiro. If one of them was going to die, then they were both going to die. 

He loved his family, he really did, and he silently cried out to whatever god was out there to let them know that he loved them. His father was a strong man; Matt knew that wherever he was, he'd escape and return to Earth. He'd been marooned on space expeditions before, and he'd always been able to find his way back home. 

As for his little sister and his mother...they'd be okay. Of course they would miss him, never would stop missing him, but they would carry on. There was no doubt in his mind that his sister would become the greatest astrophysicist in history, and his mother would make some new groundbreaking discovery with her botany studies. They would be okay. 

This was all the encouragement Matt needed, running recklessly towards his unavoidable death-

-or so he thought. He was wrenched violently away from the arena's entrance, and suddenly there were hands all over him, grasping his arms and legs to render him immobile. Matt thrashed against their hold, fighting to free himself, adrenaline racing through his veins. He had to get to Shiro, no matter the cost. 

But the grip of the sentries-the force holding him still-was too strong, and he quickly grew too tired to fight. He let his muscles go limp, and the pain in his injured leg raged like a wildfire. It hurt something fierce, and as the sentries hauled him away, he could feel blood streaming profusely out of the gash. 

Once he was out of earshot of the Arena, three distinct sounds registered in Matt's mind: the erratic pounding of his heart against his chest, the clank-clank of the sentries' footsteps, and...

and...

_drip_

_drip_

_drip_

_drip_

...his own blood hitting the cold metal floor of this ship. Curious as to how bad the damage was, having been too preoccupied to inspect it before, Matt lifted his head to look down at it. 

Shiro obviously knew what he was doing when he'd attacked him. The cut was deep, exposing flaring red muscle, a few severed veins of which were squirting blood, and...

No, it couldn't be...

But it was. There was no denying the sight before him.

Beneath the tangle of torn muscle, arteries and veins, there was something white, tinted pink by blood, stark against the angry mass of red surrounding it. His tibia, the bone that supported his kneecap, was exposed. 

Seeing it like this caused foul-tasting bile to rise up in Matt's throat, and before he could force it down, he was heaving over his shoulder, relinquishing all of the food he'd consumed in the past few days. It took a lot of energy out of him, and he moaned at the empty ache that settled in his stomach. 

Before long black dots began to spot his vision, and Matt promptly passed out.

* * *

It's the burning, unrelenting ache in his leg that forces Matt out of unconsciousness. His eyes snap open to dim purple light and a dark grey ceiling, and he finds that he is unable to move.

The situation is all too familiar, but this time his pain is centered on his leg instead of being spread throughout his body. He knows where he is immediately, and he starts to yank violently at the chains holding him still. He'd rather be anywhere but here...he thought he'd left this place behind a long time ago. 

He's back in the Torture Chamber, masked Druids surrounding him, all studying, calculating, and waiting. He knew exactly who they were waiting for, too. 

Matt would pinch himself to see if he was having a nightmare, but his wrists were pinned to the table beneath him with tight handcuffs. He could feel the harsh metal digging into his skin; even if he had been able to pinch himself, he already knew that this wasn't a dream. Just wishful thinking. 

The soft _whoosh_ of the door sliding open startled Matt jump up into a sitting position, and he looked on in horror as an ominous cloaked figure stepped into the room. 

The Witch.

Despite having a grave injury, Matt pulled both of his legs up to his chest, gritting his teeth at how painful it was to move his mutilated leg. White splotches began to obscure his vision, blood seeping out of his wound and trickling down his leg like a morbid waterfall. 

The pain he was experiencing was unreal, and soon he realized that it was what was causing his vision to get spotty. Slowly, trying not to jolt his leg too much, he gently stretched his leg back out. However, this turned out to be more strain than his leg could handle and he passed out for the second time that day.

* * *

When Matt came to, he woke up screaming. The god-awful stench of burning flesh flowed into his nostrils, and his leg felt as if it was on fire. 

Knowing the Witch, it probably was. 

All of the Druids surrounded him, observing the Witch as she worked, and when they noticed that Matt was awake some of them turned to look at him. They said nothing (his screams were pretty self-explanatory), and Matt was suffering far too much to even notice them. 

His leg had been bothering him before, but it was nothing compared to this. Where that had been a deep, wretched ache, he was now in unfathomable pain, facing both an intensified aching sensation and the burning of his flesh as the muscles began to weld together. 

It was too much. 

Everything went black.

* * *

When Matt woke up after passing out for a third time, he found himself in a dim, cold cell. Unlike the one he'd been imprisoned in prior, there was no one in there but him. It was small too; only large enough to contain three human-sized aliens maximum, or one gigantic alien.

He was alone. 

Isolated.

It had been a long time since he'd felt this lonely.

Shifting himself into a more comfortable position, seeing as he was contorted like a disfigured pretzel with one leg over his arm, the other leg under the first, and his other arm draped over his stomach, Matt moved his leg and winced when a burning sensation ripped through it. Gritting his teeth to keep from crying out, he moved his other limbs into less painful positions.

Once he had completely disentangled himself, stretching his legs out in front of him, he looked at the gash that Shiro had made in his leg. He was surprised to find that it had been cauterized, and that there was no fresh flow of blood. 

The Witch must have closed it; that would've been the burning that he felt before. 

If only the Galra had painkillers-he really could have used some then. Or at least some kind of anesthesia, because that had been some of the worst pain he'd ever been in his entire life. More than the experiments, even. 

Sighing, he pressed himself up against the far wall, lifting up his uninjured leg and bringing it to his chest, resting his chin on his hands.

Left in isolation, his only company was his thoughts. 

It was going to be hard without Shiro to talk to...before long, he was likely going to snap. Too much had happened in the past few hours for him to forget anytime soon, and the weight of Shiro's last words settled like a dark storm cloud on his shoulders. 

_"Take care of your father."_

His father had been sent to a prison camp. Therefore, in saving him, Shiro had doomed him. 

With a wounded leg that most likely wasn't going to heal properly and absolutely no idea as to how the prison camps worked or what he'd be expected to do, Matt knew he probably wasn't going to last very long. 

But he pushed that thought away. He didn't want to think about prison camp right now, as the time he had in this cell could very well be his last moments alive. Judging by the state of his leg, infection would set in sometime soon. It would all be downhill from there.

Gradually, his thoughts began to wander, and unsurprisingly he found himself thinking about his sister, Pidge.

_What would she do in this situation?_ He thought. A small smile formed on his face as he pondered the question. 

He knew that his sister was a force to be reckoned with--he'd been on the other end of her wrath on many unfortunate occasions. The Galra were brutal, but he doubted that they would be able to face Pidge. 

It all played out like a screenplay in his head. Thinking back to what must have been months now, he went back to the beginning when he--and Shiro and his father--were captured, and replacing himself with his sister. 

She'd be the first to recognize danger when it came for her. When the Galra captured them--that is, if the Galra captured them--they'd be in trouble.

Then, in the event that the Galra were unlucky enough to have his sister on their ship, and if he knew his sister like he thought he did, she probably would have found some way to slip away from the sentries guarding the halls and hack into the ship's system. But she wasn't a pilot...

Matt stopped for a second to think it all through, and realized that in Pidge's eyes, the fact that she didn't know how to pilot a ship would be nothing more than a minor setback. _She'd find a way to control it, or scare one of the Galra into doing it for her. She's convincing like that._

If Pidge were here, she probably would have gotten out already, likely with all of the other prisoners in tow.

She was strong, stronger than he could ever hope to be. Never afraid to let her opinions heard, no matter the consequences. 

He, on the other hand, was weak. Realizing now that he was a crumbling shell of what he once was without Shiro or his father. Doomed to die out here in the middle of nowhere, in the endless void of space--

"Take care of your father." 

The words came back to him, firm and commanding. Shiro's voice the same that Matt remembered when they were both students at the Garrison, as he practiced commanding trained pilots in simulated missions to prepare himself for the long journey to Kerberos. It wasn't the voice of a scared prisoner fearing for his life--it was the voice of a true leader.

Where did that leave Matt, then? He'd never been one to rebel against a direct order from his commanding officer.

Pidge was never one to give up. Even in the times that she did, she'd get back up before he had even realized that she'd tried to admit defeat. If she was in his place, she would try to get out, fight back. 

There was nothing more important to her than family, so he'd learned. She'd bust out of her cell, free the prisoners, and rescue their father, no matter what it cost her to do so. 

"WWPD: What would Pidge Do?" he muttered quietly to himself.

Right then, he heard the door _whoosh_ open, where a Galra soldier stood, waiting. 

Matt jumped slightly in fear, but he recovered quickly and stood to greet the soldier. He felt confident now, because he vowed silently to himself as he walked from the cell towards his imminent sentence as a prison camp worker that he would someday escape the Galra's rule.

And he would be bringing his team--no, _family_ \--along with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! By the way, I want to thank anyone still reading this for sticking with me from the beginning, and providing your support through kudos. It means a lot to me that people are enjoying this story, and I hope that you continue to enjoy it!


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